Beneath the Caldera
by TheWitch'sCat
Summary: What happens if we look past the flaws of the people we hate the most, and consider what is beneath? Maybe that person you loathe, is the one who needs you the most. *Deals with abuse, and some difficult subject matter.
1. Chapter 1: DejaVu

**Allright...I will preface by saying that this story is not typical fanfiction. I have seen this type of story done before, but it's usually pretty cheesy and lacking in plot. However, I think I can do this. I think I can make you love this story. Hopefully, some of you who have read my other stuff have faith in me. This is about two young women who are cast in Wicked. They are not Elphie and Galinda reincarnated. They are their own characters, however this story relies heavily on Wicked for content. If you're thinking...'this sounds stupid'...give it a shot. I may surprise you.**

**Per the summary...this story is for anyone who's ever wanted to stand on the stage and belt Defying Gravity. This is for anyone who's ever been Not That Girl. This is for everyone who's ever fallen in love with an actor when he sang 'As Long as You're Mine'. This is for anyone who's ever been hurt, misunderstood, typecast, or just wanted something so bad you could cry. As for the setting, I've always been told to 'write what you know', so there you go.**

**Also, I have tried to give you enough of the story to get into it. Please review and help me know if you are interested.**

**For my readers who are waiting for Mia's story, it is still coming. I'm letting my muse find the exact direction for it. **

***Shameless plug...my website is now up with my Act II dress pics. Check it out at IAMELPHABAdotCOM. The link is also on my profile now.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: DejaVu**

_Present Day, Atlanta_

It was not an unusual day, all things considered. The weather was trying to turn colder, but the thick, southern humidity was slow to release its grip and give in to winter. Rebekah was standing outside a very ordinary door, studying the peeling paint. The only unique thing about it were the words _Stage Door, _printed in block letters. She took a few deep breaths, trying to work up the courage to go inside. She knew she must look crazy to any passersby, but she didn't care today. Today was the single greatest day she'd ever lived. At least, she anticipated that it would be. Today was the culmination of everything Rebekah had been working for since she was four years old. Today, she was the lead.

_Well, perhaps not truly the lead, but a co-lead,_ she told herself.

Rebekah had to admit, she'd been a touch disappointed when she'd received the final call regarding casting. She'd wanted the lead. However, she knew she was reaching for portions of the music. Rebekah knew her belt was just not that strong. Still, she felt she was somewhat typecast, as always seemed to be her lot. She was the dumb blonde, the flaky girlfriend, or the helpless ingénue. She would have loved the chance to sink her teeth into a darker character. However, she wouldn't turn down this chance. Not for anything.

She would be Galinda. Glinda the Good. Rebekah would shimmer and sparkle in a beautiful dress in front of endless sold out houses. She was now part of a huge production, a sixteen-truck touring production. This would not be like the show she did in the little theater next to the animal shelter, where there were never more than thirty in the audience and she always came out smelling like dog. This was not the local production of _Cats_ where her dance partner had dropped her and fractured her knee. This surpassed the three shows where she'd traveled as a standby, chewing her nails and hoping for a chance to perform. This was even more significant than when she'd finally been cast in a decent supporting role in New York.

This was _Wicked._

Rebekah took another breath, trying to make herself open the door. She was still standing there like a star-struck child, when someone brushed past her and pulled open the door.

The young man held it open and said, "Coming?"

Rebekah nodded wordlessly and shuffled inside. She'd been inside dozens of theaters, but her breath still caught. Something within her still hitched. She closed her eyes, and inhaled the familiar scent that only an actor could appreciate. It was a mixture of sweat, musty curtains, unwashed costumes, and dusty stage. Still, it was a smell as familiar as home. This was the theater, her greatest love. This was the place where dreams were made and audiences were thrilled. This was where the lights burned bright and chaos was routine. This was her cartharsis, her place of solace and absolution. She could be anything, here. And this time, she was the star.

She made her way down a hallway and into the stage-left wing. She surveyed the carefully stowed set pieces and the long racks of costumes. Then, she slipped quietly through the curtains and onto the stage. Rebekah stood there for some time, just taking it in. She made her way to center stage and let her eyes roam over the hundreds of empty seats. She took in the clockwork detail on the massive facades. She walked forward and stood just in front of the act curtain, peering down into the orchestra pit. She closed her eyes and imagined the house full of people, their eyes fixed on her as she made her glamorous entrance.

"I see you're early, Miss Rawlings," a voice broke into her daydream.

Rebekah turned and gave a wide smile, "Mr. Strayer…it's wonderful to meet you," she extended her hand.

The man shook her hand and returned the smile, "I understand, you're excited. But you should be. This is an incredible opportunity, and you're one of the youngest we've cast in this role. You're quite talented, but you ran up against actors with far more impressive resumes."

"I do not intend to disappoint, Mr. Strayer," Rebekah managed to answer.

"Please…it's Jonathan. I am your director, but that's awfully formal."

Rebekah nodded.

Jonathan disappeared then, to organize himself for the day. Rebekah was left alone for another few minutes, to take in where she was and try to believe that this was real. She was trying to determine how many people the house could seat when she heard Jonathan calling to her from the wing.

"Rebekah, I'd like you to meet your costar," he stated.

She turned just as they emerged from the shadows of the curtains.

"This is Rosalyn," he continued, "She will be your Elphaba."

Rebekah's breath caught as the woman followed Jonathan onto the stage. Suddenly, her excitement was dampened. She blinked a few times, trying to confirm what she was seeing. Rebekah had dreamt about this moment so many times, she thought she might be caught up in a nightmare where things went horribly wrong. Realizing she was fully awake, her stomach dropped. She swallowed over a sudden knot of dread, trying to determine how something so wonderful could go so horribly wrong.

It was, in fact, Rosalyn. She stood just behind Jonathan, staring at Rebekah with a raised brow. She was exactly as Rebekah remembered, but with an even harder quality than she'd had six years ago.

_How is this possible?_ Rebekah asked herself, _How am I supposed to share a stage with her? In a show where we are totally dependent upon each other? How am I ever supposed to communicate any sort of believable friendship with her?_

Rebekah had worked with actors she'd disliked before. She'd partnered with people whom she wouldn't spend five minutes with, socially. She had faked love and affection plenty of times. Still, she had never been cast opposite someone she hated this thoroughly. This show depended on the two of them communicating a deeply personal friendship, and Rebekah wasn't sure she could bring herself to touch Rosalyn. Just the idea of it made her shudder.

None one spoke for several moments, and the two women stared at each other. They looked as though they were challenging each other to be the first to admit they knew each other. Dozens of memories swirled through Rebekah's head as she tried to find a vestige of the excitement she'd felt moments ago.

It was futile, however, and Rebekah's wonderful day came crashing down around her when Rosalyn said, "Well…it's beautiful Becca, the golden virgin of Caplin Hall."

Rebekah did not respond, and she closed her eyes for a moment, spiraling back six years to a time she'd most sincerely hoped to forget. The Year of Rosalyn, as she'd bitterly called it. The year she'd almost given all this up.


	2. Chapter 2: Roommate

**Chapter 2: Roommate**

_Six Years Previous, Central North Carolina_

Rebekah was more on edge than usual at the start of the semester. She would be a senior Musical Theater student this year, which meant she had only had a few months left in the haven of university before she was forced to make a go at this in the real world. She was already nervous and a bit afraid, and it was only August. She wanted to perform, that much she knew. She would climb Brasstown Bald barefoot in the depth of winter for a chance at the lead in a major production. She was talented, but then, they were all talented. Talent itself was not unique.

As she crossed the open courtyard in front of her dormitory, Rebekah studied the clear, azure sky. The air was still suffocating, and she knew it would be at least a month before the thick, summer heat gave in and surrendered to fall. That's how the seasons changed here, in the rolling piedmont of North Carolina. Summer crept up slowly, and then gripped the region with sweltering heat and pounding thunderstorms for the better part of four months. Winter often had to battle for its right to come at all, and usually didn't fully take hold until late November.

So Rebekah fanned herself with a notebook and hoisted her duffle bag as she climbed the stairs to her room. As a senior, and because she'd stayed on over the summer to participate in the summer musical workshop, she'd been able to keep her room from the year before. Caplin Hall was nice enough, as dormitories go, and it was nice not to have to move. She was also glad to only be sharing the bathroom with three other people. Still, this year would be vastly different than the three previous.

Hayleigh, her best friend and roommate, had graduated that spring. Therefore, Rebekah was forced to spend the following year living with someone new. It was unsettling, because Rebekah and Hayleigh had known each other since babyhood. They had grown up together, putting on shows for their parents and dreaming of something beyond their little, mountain town. Coming to college so many miles from home had been their greatest adventure so far. Now though, Hayleigh's journey at the university was over and she was dancing in a revival of _A Chorus Line_ in Charlotte. Rebekah would have to find a way to coexist with someone new.

_I suppose she's probably here by now,_ she told herself as she approached the door to her room.

Rebekah had been dancing all morning in the empty studio, trying to relax herself before classes began in a few days. She fished out her key, but realized with a turn of the knob that the door was unlocked. She pushed her way inside and shut the door behind herself with a click. She looked around at the mess of suitcases and plastic crates on what had been Hayleigh's side of the room. Then, the new girl emerged from the ensuite bathroom.

Except she wasn't exactly new. Rebekah recognized her as Rosalyn Gutierrez, from several of her classes. She was a fellow theater student, and they'd worked together on a handful of shows. Rebekah knew very little about her, except that she was very good, and she knew it. Rosalyn could belt at the top of soprano range and then snap gum as though nothing had happened. Rebekah had heard more than one other student complaining about how the professors often looked the other way when it came to Rosalyn's gum chewing and wandering in to rehearsals fifteen minutes late.

_Lord, I hope she's a quiet person when she's not singing, _Rebekah thought to herself, trying to calm her sudden trepidation about this living situation.

She finally cleared her throat and said, "I'm Rebekah. I suppose we're roommates…"

Rosalyn stopped and stared, as though she were trying to decide if she had to answer.

Rebekah stared back, taking in the other girl. Rosalyn was perhaps an inch taller than she, who stood at five-foot-eight. Her shock of dark hair rolled and tumbled around her shoulders like black coffee cut through with a hint of mocha. Her eyes were deep brown and constantly stormy. Her skin was impossibly fair, for someone who was otherwise so dark. Her features looked chiseled out of perfect stone, like she'd been sculpted rather than birthed. The straight line of her nose dropped off above lips that formed a brooding pout. Her eyes were wide-set and heavily lashed, with delicate brows. Although Rebekah almost matched her in height, Rosalyn had the curves to make any boy flush. Standing there in her cut-off sweatpants and a tank top that showed just enough perfect waistline to have the freshmen boys drooling, Rosalyn made Rebekah wish she'd made more of an effort that morning.

Rebekah caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the back of the closet door, and winced. Her torn leggings and leotard were covered by an old t-shirt she'd cut the neck out of. Granted, she was long-legged, with the lithe, lean muscle of a dancer, but Rebekah spent a significant amount of time trying to enhance the curve of her breasts to fill out her costumes. She'd yet to tame her hair for the day, and it was escaping from the elastic trying to contain it. Without significant work with a hair straightener, it would spill down her back in a mass of straw-colored corkscrews. Rebekah had always been fair and typically pretty, with bright, gray eyes and a sweet smile. Her grandmother called her 'little Shirley Temple', and gave her extra cookies for flashing her dimpled smile. Somehow though, facing off with Rosalyn, Rebekah felt more like a caterpillar who'd yet to transform.

_Maybe she's not so bad, _Rebekah tried to encourage herself, _Maybe she's just obnoxious to her professors…_

"Are you a dance student?" Rosalyn finally asked.

Rebekah shook her head, "No, musical theater. But I've danced my whole life."

"Ah. I suppose I just haven't seen you in much," Rosalyn answered with a disdainful smirk.

Rebekah's temper flared, "I was the lead in _Sound of Music_ last year."

Rosalyn looked her up and down again and said, "That would suit you."

It was not a compliment, Rebekah understood. Not one to hold her tongue, she threw back, "And I suppose the shows you've done here have been so much more significant?"

Rosalyn's tone was still perfectly even as she said, "Maybe not, here. But in a year we'll be in the real world, and you'll need more than a pretty face and a decent voice."

"And who are you to decide that I'm only decent?" Rebecca shot back, "You've been here, what, two hours? Your moving into _my_ room, and you think you can label me?"

Rosalyn started sorting through her bags, "Maybe we shouldn't talk," she snapped.

"No, I think you should apologize for acting like you have the right to critique me, when you don't even know me!" Rebecca was yelling now.

"Sometimes, truth hurts," Rosalyn quipped, throwing a bag over her shoulder.

Rebekah was livid, "You _cannot_ move into my room and act like—"

"Our room," Rosalyn cut her off. She gave an acidic little smile before exiting with a slam of the door.

Rebekah stood there for a moment, and then hurled one of her pillows somewhat ineffectively at the closed door.

_This is going to be fun,_ was all she could think.

* * *

The two girls said very little to each other over the next several days, and Rebekah was glad when classes began midweek. Immersing herself in her schoolwork and weeknight rehearsals allowed her to forget her current living situation. It allowed her to miss Hayleigh a bit less. Without her best friend to distract her, though, she couldn't help noticing Rosalyn in places she had not before.

In class, the dark-haired girl rarely spoke, except when called upon. She turned up in Rebekah's Theater History class, and spent most of the time with her head down, writing furiously. She walked to and from classes alone, and Rebekah wandered if she ever ate. She'd never seen Rosalyn in the dining hall. Luckily enough, she didn't appear to have any other particularly obnoxious habits besides her caustic tongue. She had organized her side of the room well enough, and she had yet to hog the shower or start snoring.

By the end of the first full week of class, Rebekah was in somewhat better spirits. She was starting to believe they might make it through this semester if she and Rosalyn simply never spoke. It would be a quiet semester, but at least they wouldn't kill each other.

Her phone rang as she was walking back to her room that Friday night, after an initial choreography rehearsal for the fall showcase. Rebekah answered and was elated to find Hayleigh on the other end of the call.

"Are you surviving?" Hayleigh asked immediately.

"I suppose. Class is going awesome. But the new roommate…she's crazy," Rebekah answered.

"Crazy?" Hayleigh echoed.

"Well…maybe not like, building-an-altar-to-Satan crazy…but she hates everyone, I think."

"Is it that gothic-looking girl who only eats wheatgrass?" Hayleigh asked.

"No, her name's Rosalyn…dark hair…unfortunately gorgeous," Rebekah explained.

"Oh yeah…the singer. She was in my Vocal Seminar. She can belt, that's for sure…but she never talked," Hayleigh returned.

"Well…she can talk. She's horrible, though. She looked at me like I was a dung beetle," Rebekah chuckled.

"Well, hang in there. You'll be out soon. Although, the real world isn't a picnic," Hayleigh sighed.

"Is it not going well?" Rebekah asked sympathetically.

"Yes, and no. The show's great. The experience is incredible. The dressing rooms smell like urine, though. And Shayla, one of the leads, she makes me want to rip off my own fingernails."

"It sounds like we're having mutual difficulties," Rebekah noted.

She had finally reached her room, and she was listening to Hayleigh describe her difficult costar as she fumbled with the lock. She finally managed to push open the door and, for a moment, she blinked in the dim light. After a minute, Rebekah could just make out two figures on Rosalyn's bed. They were both very naked, and clearly did not want to be disturbed. She let out a little shriek and nearly dropped the phone.

"I'm going to have to call you back," she choked out, and hung up the phone. She hoped Hayleigh would understand.

Rebekah turned and fled the room. She leaned against the wall just outside the door and tried to erase the mental image of what she'd just seen.

After a moment, Rosalyn poked her head around the doorframe, wearing a blanket, "What are you doing?" she snapped.

Rebekah looked at her, wide-eyed, "What are _you _doing? I'm coming home…to _my_ room!"

"Well, not right now you're not. Go away."

"Go away?" Rebekah fumed, "I _live_ here! This is where I sleep! Why don't you go do…that…somewhere else!"

Rosalyn smirked, "Look, if you come back in here in less than an hour, you'll have to watch us have sex. If that's something you're interested in, fine, but I think you might want to discuss the compulsion with a qualified counselor."

Rebekah's mouth hung open as the door slammed in her face. A part of her wanted to bang on the door and have a showdown in the hallway. She was afraid, however, that Rosalyn would simply ignore her, or answer the door naked. So instead, she leaned against the wall, and then slid down to sit just outside the door. Tears pricked her eyes, because she was so frustrated. She suddenly missed Hayleigh terribly.

Neither one of them had been oblivious to the realities of college life. They knew couples often stayed after hours in each other's rooms. They understood that most of the theater department had slept with most of the theater department. In their room, however, that was not the case. Rebekah had never had to worry about coming home to find Hayleigh in bed with some random guy. They were both raised conservatively, and their focus was on graduation. Neither one of them was interested in sleeping around just for the sake of it. Relationships would come, in time, and if their lives allowed it. They had agreed, though, that their dreams came first. It might be somewhat idealistic, and perhaps a bit juvenile in its ideology, but it worked for them.

Rebekah knew, however, that she couldn't force her beliefs on Rosalyn. She'd never tried to force it on anyone. Still, she felt as though her space had been desecrated. For three years, she and Hayleigh had kept things the way they wanted. Now, Rebekah's perfect bubble had burst, and she was finally forced to confront real life. This was her future. In a year, she would leave the safety of school behind, and enter a world filled with people like Rosalyn. They would all be good, and they would all know it. They would have their own ideas, morals, and opinions. They would most likely be very different from her. She knew it was coming, but she was angry at Rosalyn for bursting the bubble so soon.

Rebekah wanted to work in theater. She wanted it more than anything, and she had trained hard. She gave it everything within her. Still, to do it would mean leaving behind this little world she knew. It had meant leaving the mountains of north Georgia to come to this school. It now meant living with wretched Rosalyn, and it would surely bring a whole host of other difficult choices. Sitting there in the quiet hallway, Rebekah was far from willing to give up her dream. Still, in spite of herself, she was afraid.


	3. Chapter 3: Dreams and Nightmares

**Chapter 3: Dreams and Nightmares**

The next few weeks passed rather quickly for Rebekah, although it was due more to having rehearsal nearly every night than from any improvement in her living situation. Rosalyn stumbled home fairly regularly with a guy in tow, and Rebekah was forced to either watch, or get out of the room. So she'd taken to staying late in the studio or the theater just to avoid the confrontations. It was wearing on her, but Rebekah figured she would be the most rehearsed cast member in both of her fall shows.

Ever the optimist, she often told herself, _I suppose I can thank Rosalyn for all this extra rehearsal time…_

Late one Thursday evening, just as the weather was finally cooling a bit, Rebekah returned to her room after a lengthy rehearsal for the fall musical. The show was required for her major, as was the dance showcase for her minor. She was sweaty and tired, but she felt good about what had been accomplished. Reaching the door to her room, she unlocked it hesitantly and peered inside. She let out a breath when she saw Rosalyn sitting on her bed, surrounded by books. Rebekah dropped her bags next to her bed and grabbed some pajamas, because she desperately wanted a shower before taking a shot at the character analysis she had due the next day.

After getting clean and, unfortunately, ruining all the work she'd done with the hair straightener that morning, Rebekah flopped down on her bed. She cracked open her copy of _Crimes of the Heart_, to attempt to get into the head of Babe. Rosalyn said nothing. As usual, neither girl acknowledged the other's presence. Rebekah shook her head at the ridiculousness of the situation, and then dove into her work. For her, these times were the most awkward. She longed for Hayleigh, and how they used to make popcorn and explain their characters to each other to organize their thoughts.

After about a half-hour, the echoing silence in the room started to make Rebekah crazy. She finally got up and switched on her radio, scrolling through her mp3 collection to find something decent. After finally settling on some old soundtracks, she crossed back to her bed and started reading again.

After about a minute, Rosalyn spoke up, "Could you not do that?"

"What?" Rebekah looked baffled, and was startled that her roommate had spoken.

"Play obnoxious music. I'm trying to think," Rosalyn shot back.

Rebekah was stunned, "Obnoxious? It's _Fame_…"

"Exactly. I cannot read _The Zero Sum Mind_, and write a history paper, _and _listen to _Fame._"

"Why would you be trying to read that script and write…nevermind," Rebekah growled, when she saw Rosalyn's withering expression, "but I cannot work with the deafening silence in this room, so what do you suggest I play?"

Rosalyn cocked her head, "Nothing. Turn it off."

Rebekah was livid, "Turn it off? As in, you are now telling me what to do?"

"You're an incredibly fast learner. I suspect there's a job for you at a nearby McDonalds," Rosalyn smiled sweetly.

Rebekah was not amused, "I will _not_ turn this off just because _you _are _insane_!"

Rosalyn rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Oh Lord…it seems I've angered it…"

"_It_? Did you just call me _it_?" Rebekah stood up, fuming.

Rosalyn leveled her eyes at her roommate, "Yes, I did."

Rebekah stepped closer, "You have absolutely no right to talk to me like that! I know all you're trying to do is make me angry and—"

"It worked," Rosalyn smirked, "And you certainly do have a quick temper."

Rebekah stepped close enough to point a finger in Rosalyn's face, "You are a horrible, horrible person! And I'm pretty certain _no one_ likes you!"

Rosalyn raised an eyebrow, "That's a pretty sad argument. I don't have any trouble being _liked_."

"No," Rebekah returned, "You don't have any trouble being _easy_."

Rosalyn finally stood face to face with Rebekah. Her expression was suddenly very dark, "I am _anything_ but _easy_. And who I choose to sleep with is none of your damn business."

"Don't swear at me!" Rebekah was screaming now.

"And now you're going to tell me what I can and cannot say?" Rosalyn spat.

Rebekah threw up her hands, "I really don't understand! Do you take some sort of evil pill every morning? Do you hate everyone, or is it just me?"

Rosalyn stared at her for a minute, her dark eyes flashing. She finally pursed her lips and crossed back to the table next to her bed. She flicked on her own radio, scrolled through the songs, and then twisted the volume as loud as it would go. Rebekah's mouth hung open as the room was filled with the song Rosalyn had chosen.

_I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother,  
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed.  
I'm your hell, I'm your dream, I'm nothing in between,  
You know you wouldn't want it any other way…_

Rebekah just stood there, trying to understand what exactly had transpired. She'd never met someone so deliberately determined to make her life miserable. She had heard plenty of stories about roommates who had irritating habits or who refused to clean. She'd heard of people staying up all night or coming in and making a ridiculous amount of noise. However, Rebekah had never heard of someone who simply enjoyed being hateful. She could have dealt with thoughtless or messy, or even just rude. Rosalyn, however, was deliberately cruel.

_And clearly, _Rebekah realized as the music blared, _she understands exactly what she is._

After standing there for a few minutes, frustrated to the point of tears, Rebekah gathered up her books and stomped down the hall to the common area. She took a blanket, because it was generally frigid year-round in the open area at the end of the hall. She slumped down onto a lumpy couch and grumbled her complaints as she reopened her script and tried to work.

_It's my room! It's my room, too,_ she found herself thinking instead of working, _Am I supposed to spend the next nine months being chased out of my own room?_

Rebekah had no easy answers, and the whole situation was beginning to weigh on her. She was tired, and she wanted her space. She wanted her things and her music. She felt that she had a right to at least that much.

She considered going to the Resident Assistant and complaining, but she knew how that generally went. Usually, one ended up with more enemies than friends. Still, this was an unbearable situation if there'd ever been one. Rebekah was incredibly torn.

_I suppose I could wait until December, and then request a room change,_ she considered, _There must be at least one other person in this school who'd be willing to live with me…_

Rebekah heaved a sigh and tried to let it go. She had work to do, and dwelling on it was allowing Rosalyn to further ruin her evening. So she worked into the night, and didn't slip back into the room until the wee hours, when her roommate was asleep.

* * *

That weekend, Rebekah was afforded a much needed break. Hayleigh had invited her to Charlotte for the weekend, and she was more grateful for the trip than she could express. She made the drive in a little less than two hours, thanks to decent traffic. She found Hayleigh's house easily enough. It was a small, older ranch on the edge of center city. Several performers shared the space, making the rent per person affordable. When Rebekah rang the bell, Hayleigh flung open the door.

The two girls squealed and hugged each other, earning a raised eyebrow from the young man on the sofa just inside the door. Hayleigh finally turned and said, "Oh…Becca, this is Adam. Adam…Rebekah Rawlings."

"Ah…the best friend?" Adam questioned rhetorically.

Hayleigh nodded, and Rebekah shook Adam's hand. He seemed nice enough, with sandy blonde hair and a crooked smile. He disappeared into one of the bedrooms so the girls could talk, and Rebekah sat down, as instructed. She watched Hayleigh dig out sodas for them from the kitchen. The house was small, but it seemed to work for the four people living there.

"Sarah's at rehearsal and Brockton is at work," Hayleigh explained, handing over a soda.

Rebekah nodded, studying how Hayleigh had changed since she'd left that spring. She'd recently cropped her thick, mahogany hair into a bob for the sake of her current show. It suited her just as well as when it had been long. Her eyes hovered somewhere between brown and gray, and her features were soft and delicate. She was wide-eyed and button-nosed, with a sweet smile. Hayleigh was also not getting any taller. She'd been praying for more height since Rebekah had known her, but clearly her frame was not destined to reach more than five feet.

_I suppose I'll always be the flyer, _Hayleigh had often teased, _I'll do the high lifts and be the one they hang from the rigging._

Rebekah thought that would suit her. Hayleigh was an incredible dancer. She was not a strong soloist, but she could bring an audience to their feet with a series of effortless pique turns.

"Rebekah? You're staring…" Hayleigh was saying with a wry smile.

Rebekah shook her head, "Sorry…it's the hair. I'm still getting used to the hair."

"I know. It's different, but it looks good on stage. I suppose I'll let it grow, when the show closes," Hayleigh mused.

"How much longer do you have?"

"About six weeks. I think I'm going to do _The Nutcracker_ after that, just to keep a paycheck coming," Hayleigh explained.

"Paychecks are good," Rebekah teased.

"Yeah…you'll be in search of one soon enough," Hayleigh threw back.

There was a comfortable silence then, between two friends who didn't always have to speak.

Eventually, Hayleigh asked, "So how's the roommate? Have you killed her yet?"

Rebekah sighed and shook her head, "No…but I'm close. If I just had a place to hide the body…"

Hayleigh giggled, "Is she that awful? I can't believe I don't remember her being crazy."

"You wouldn't," Rebekah explained, "She's quiet in class. The most she does is look at everyone else like they're an inconvenience. I remembered a couple weeks ago…she was in _Footloose_ with us, my freshman year…"

"Oh yeah…" Hayleigh remembered, "She really could sing."

"Unfortunately. But she's evil incarnate. Not just annoying or obnoxious…she's evil. She's one of those people who does things _just_ to be hurtful. She told me I should consider majoring in English, just in case theater doesn't 'pan out'. I mean…I know some people need to hear that, but I didn't think I was one of them…"

"Becca…you're not. Don't listen to her. You have a strong voice. You can reach a high E flat with ease and control. You sing with clarity…it's beautiful. You don't give yourself enough credit," Hayleigh encouraged.

"Thanks…I'll take the compliment this time," Rebekah smiled, "I guess I'm just…feeling the real world coming on…"

Hayleigh looked sympathetic, "It's not easy. I won't lie to you. But you're good, Becca. You're going to get something. You may have to audition a thousand times, and then have to play a mouse, but it'll be a start."

"A mouse?" Rebekah smiled.

"I don't know…I'm very tired…" Hayleigh chuckled.

Rebekah laughed, and then studied the ceiling. Finally, she admitted, "I think what bothers me the most is that…Rosalyn brings guys back to the room. She has no sense of modesty. I think she'd have sex in front of me if I refused to leave…"

"Yeah, that's disgusting," Hayleigh wrinkled her nose.

"I know it's her right, to do what she wants. Still…I just want to be able to come home to my room and study. Or do anything, really, without worrying about walking in on nudity," Rebekah grumbled.

"You should have that right. Sarah and Adam don't have sex on our couch. I can't force my ideals on them, but they respect the roommate situation," Hayleigh explained.

Rebekah studied her hands, "Do you think…maybe I'm wrong? Maybe we're both wrong? Maybe I should just bring back one of the guy dance majors back to my room and get it over with…"

Hayleigh took her friend's hand, "First of all, I don't think you'll find a guy dance major who would be…interested," she laughed, "But I think you should do what you think is right. We both knew how tough this life was going to be, but we agreed to stick to what we believe. Don't go against that because Rosalyn needs to make you feel bad to make herself feel better."

Rebekah chewed her lip, pensive.

Hayleigh squeezed her hand, "I'll support you, whatever you do. We've been best friends since our moms joined that Terrible Toddlers support class. Just remember what we said…our dreams come first."

Rebekah finally smiled, "I miss you."

Hayleigh returned the smile, "Ditto."

"Enough of that," Rebekah shook her head, "How's the family?"

Hayleigh rolled her eyes, "Crazy. They're the same huge, crazy, Italian family they've always been. My brothers mobbed me the last time I went home, trying to make sure I'm well taken care of."

"That's what you get from five older brothers," Rebekah laughed, "I think my parents are going through a whole new stage of withdrawal. I swear, sometimes I wish they'd adopt another child. I wish they had someone else to focus on, besides me."

"Yeah, your poor mom…no one to bake cookies for," Hayleigh faked a pout.

Rebekah laughed and tossed a pillow in her direction. After a minute, she asked, "Do you ever think…that maybe…we're ill-prepared for this?"

"What do you mean?" Hayleigh looked curious.

"I don't know…we come from a town of maybe three thousand people. We have four parents between us. We haven't had much dysfunction or drama. Our lives have been pretty…boring," Rebekah explained.

Hayleigh looked thoughtful, and then answered, "No…we're just lucky. If it all goes to heck, we have a decent place to come home to."

Rebekah smiled, because at least that much was certain.

* * *

The weekend would only get better from then. Hayleigh made sure Rebekah had a seat at all of her performances, and Rebekah stood and cheered every time. In between, they explored the eclectic downtown scene of the growing city of Charlotte. They found a little café called Smelly Cat, and listened to some local poets while sipping coffee. They watched some of their favorite movies and laughed over their old high school yearbooks.

It was a good time, and it made returning to school that much harder for Rebekah. She missed Hayleigh desperately, now that they'd been together again. The drive back to school was horribly lonely, and the prospect of seeing Rosalyn felt about as appealing as a prison sentence. Lost in her thoughts while driving, Rebekah was beginning to understand how much she had leaned on her best friend these past three years. It made her question her ability to survive on her own. She was afraid she was poorly prepared, emotionally, for making her own way. And Rosalyn's constant questioning her talent did little to help.

When Rebekah arrived back on campus, she was grateful for the weekend, but tired. She trudged back up to her room with a ball of dread in her stomach. She only hoped Rosalyn would just let her crawl into bed without any fireworks. Therefore, she was quite pleased to find the room empty when she opened the door. Rebekah let out a lsigh and decided to take a long shower. Afterward, she pulled on pajamas and crawled under her covers. She was asleep in minutes, having gone nonstop since Friday evening.

Some time much later, Rebekah woke to the sound of muffled noises from across the room. She wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper, and the noise combined with the small lamp Rosalyn had lit pulled her from sleep. She rubbed her eyes and looked toward Rosalyn's bed, trying to determine why the light would be on at this hour. When her eyes finally focused, it was apparent that Rosalyn was not alone.

Rebekah startled and turned away quickly, to face the wall, _What fresh new torture is this?_ she asked herself, appalled.

She clenched her fists and tried to muffle the sounds with her pillow. Rebekah was horrified that Rosalyn had the nerve to have sex while she was asleep _in the room._ Rosalyn had threatened it plenty of times, but she'd assumed her roommate was just trying to get rid of her. Rebekah had never imagined that Rosalyn was that brazen and disrespectful. Even if she was that immodest, Rebekah had hoped she was decent enough to respect that Rebekah was not interested in seeing this. Apparently, she had been wrong. Rebekah lay there and fought with herself, trying to determine if she should get up and leave, or if that would make it worse.

_God, I'm going to need to know what I did wrong, to deserve to have to live with someone who's nothing short of some sort of nymphomaniac…_ she thought.

After some time, and after hearing more than she'd ever wanted to hear, Rebekah heard shuffling around and the click of the door shutting. She let out a sigh of relief and tried to go back to sleep. She was embarrassed and angry, and believed she'd reached the end of her tolerance. She felt a visit with the Resident Assistant might be unavoidable. If nothing else, Rosalyn was breaking all the rules of curfew. She also had men in the dorm after they were allowed. Rebekah did not want to be a tattletale. She did not want to come across as immature and whiny. Still, she wanted her personal space to be respected. It was a choice between two evils, and she struggled with it as her eyes grew heavy and closed.

* * *

Much later, when the moon was high and the room was very dark, Rebekah was pulled from sleep again. It was hard to pinpoint why, at first, and she felt like she might have slept through the disturbance if she hadn't been awakened once already. Annoyed, she looked over towards Rosalyn again. At this point, if there was another guy in the room, Rebekah was ready to stand up and start throwing things at her roommate, naked or not. She stopped, however, when she saw that Rosalyn was alone.

The dark-haired girl was sitting upright, with her hands on her face. She was trembling, as though she'd woken from a nightmare. She whispered to herself oddly, perhaps to calm herself. After a minute, Rosalyn stood and started to pace quietly, twisting her hands together. She continued to whisper, and the effect was altogether surreal.

Rebekah was very torn. Her compassionate nature wanted to be worried. However, she was also afraid this was just another manifestation of her roommate's insanity. She was starting to think perhaps Rosalyn might have a very real social disorder. As Rebekah watched her pace, she couldn't deny that something was wrong. There was a vein of something very dark running through Rosalyn, and Rebekah couldn't help wondering what it might be. She pressed her eyes shut, though, and tried to force herself back to sleep. As far as Rebekah was concerned, Rosalyn had not earned compassion, or even questioning. She was on her own.


	4. Chapter 4: Secrets

**Chapter 4: Secrets**

The following Wednesday, Rebekah sat with two of her fellow theater students in the sprawling lobby of Jackson Hall, which housed most of the classrooms and studios for the school of performing arts. She was nibbling at a bag of pretzels, trying to abate her hunger after morning classes. It had been a decent day so far, with the weather turning a bit cooler and the leaves starting to brighten into fall colors.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized it had been a good week as well. Rosalyn had been quiet and, more importantly, alone, for the past several days. Rebekah thought perhaps it had something to do with their midterm exams, which were only a couple weeks away. For all of her roommate's rule-breaking, Rebekah had noticed that she spent a great deal of time studying. Rosalyn would come in after midnight, and then sit up with her books long after Rebekah was asleep. It was simply another checkmark on the list of ways that Rosalyn was strange.

"Rebekah…Rebekah?"

It took her a minute to realize someone was calling her name. She shook herself and smiled at Landon, who was preparing to toss a magazine at her.

"Sorry…I was in my special place," she teased.

"Yeah…you visit there regularly," Emma joked in return.

Emma and Landon were twins, and Rebekah was certain they could have been identical, save for Landon being a guy. Both had dark hair and steel blue eyes that would take them far in show business, because it was impossible to forget their piercing color. Rebekah had known them both since she'd been paired with Landon for some scene work when they were just freshmen.

"Is your roommate keeping you awake again?" Emma asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Rebekah shook her head, "Thankfully, not this week. I think I'm just tired from rehearsals. This semester is killer, with both the showcase and the fall musical."

"Yeah, you've been here nonstop. And it sucks to have to live with someone you hate. You should be able to go home and sleep," Landon grumbled.

"Who lives with someone they hate?" another voice spoke up from behind Rebekah. She looked over her shoulder to see Chase, who was in her modern dance class. He was a dance major, and was as quirky as he was talented. He was currently wearing bright red, faux glasses and a leotard, with torn sweatpants thrown on over his tights.

"Me," Rebekah answered, "Although the word _hate_ is pretty strong…"

Emma shook her head, "Don't feel bad. Some people deserve to be hated. You're just too nice sometimes, Becca."

Rebekah smirked and Chase asked, "Who is it? Who do you hate? I'm being left out of the gossip…"

"Rosalyn…last name I can't pronounce. She's my roommate this term," Rebekah explained.

"Ah yes…Hayleigh left us to get a head start on fame and fortune," Chase recalled out loud.

"Yeah…it's harder than I thought it would be, with her gone," Rebekah studied her hands for a minute.

Emma looked sympathetic, "You couldn't be roommates forever, Becca. Real life is out there."

"I thought I knew that…until it happened," Rebekah mused.

Chase lit up in a mischievous smile then, as though he'd had a sudden revelation, "You know what Rosalyn does, don't you?"

Rebekah shook her head, "I'd rather not discuss it. I've seen far more than I ever wanted to…"

"No," Chase cut in, "her job. Do you know where she works?"

They all shook their heads.

"She's a dancer," he continued, "at a club in downtown Greensboro."

Rebekah was momentarily confused, and then realization colored her face, "You mean…a _dancer_? Like an _exotic_ dancer?"

"Yep," Chase smirked, "me and a friend of mine happened to see her one Friday night, when we took a weekend trip. She bolted as soon as she saw us and wouldn't come back out all night, though."

Rebekah chewed her lip, trying to absorb this new bit of information. She thought back over the past month or so. She had noticed that Rosalyn was generally gone in the evening. She was usually at rehearsal or nowhere to be found, and it would be late when she would return. Rebekah had no idea how she got in, but she broke curfew constantly. Then, the most disturbing realization occurred. Any time Rebekah had gotten a glimpse of the guys Rosalyn brought home, she never recognized them. She had assumed her roommate was choosing men outside the theater department, however now Rebekah wondered if they were even students at all. It scared her a little, to think that Rosalyn was bringing home strangers from a bar.

She tried not to show her sudden fear, though, and teased Chase instead, "What were _you_ doing in a club? With women?"

Chase smiled and slapped her playfully, "I lost a bet. A really dumb bet."

They all laughed, and Rebekah felt a touch better.

"I have to say, I might pay to see her…Rosalyn," Landon admitted, "She might be hateful, but I bet she'd look good naked."

Rebekah punched him, "You are disgusting. And you'd have to get in line. In fact, I'm surprised there's not a line outside my dorm room. I swear, I think she has some sort of take-a-number system or something."

"And they weren't completely naked," Chase corrected, "It wasn't quite that sleazy of a place."

"Well, she's clearly putting on a good front here. Everyone who's ever made a pass at her has been rudely shot down," Landon added.

Again, Rebekah was perplexed. She shook her head, though, and said, "Can we talk about something else? This is enough to deal with as it is. I'd like a Rosalyn-free afternoon…"

Emma looked sympathetic and offered, "Why don't we go to lunch? We can leave these guys to talk about naked strippers…male or female, whatever their fancy is. I think you need a break."

Rebekah was grateful, and smiled her acceptance.

The two girls had a nice lunch, and Rebekah was in fairly good spirits the rest of the afternoon. She made it through a Theater History exam and brought some carry-out back to her room for a rare, free night. She put in a bit of time on her Playwriting project, which was due in draft format at midterm. Then, she settled in to read for a while in the peace of the empty room. Rebekah had come to realize that if Rosalyn wasn't home after dinner, she would be gone until late. Now, she understood why.

As it got later, Rebekah felt her eyes grow heavy, and she decided to switch off the lights early and get some sleep. The term was only destined to get more difficult, and she could use the extra rest. Unfortunately, only a couple of hours had passed before she was slowly pulled from sleep again.

This time, when Rebekah realized Rosalyn had yet another man in her bed, she stayed awake facing the wall. When he finally started to slip out of the room, Rebekah turrned studied him. In the dim light, she could only tell that he was about average height, with dark, wavy hair. The thing that was most apparent, though, was that he was at least thirty years old. Rebekah turned back toward the wall and rested her face on her hand. For the first time, she was more afraid than angry. Until now, she'd turned away and tried to ignore Rosalyn's activities, but she didn't think she could rest knowing that the guys in her room weren't harmless college boys. Rosalyn was bringing home strange men from a club, miles away.

_They could be crazy, drunk rapists for all I know_, she thought, shuddering.

It took only a few minutes for Rebekah to decide that this was where she drew the line. This made her fear for her own safety. She had to do something, and there was no avoiding it this time.

The following afternoon, Rebekah sat in the Resident Assistant's office, twisting her hands together. She knew she was risking an all out war, by doing this, but she simply couldn't live in a situation that made her afraid. As kind-hearted as she generally was, that was asking too much.

Rosalyn came through the door a few moments later, having been summoned by the R.A. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulders and raised an eyebrow at Rebekah as she sat down beside her. Rebekah swallowed, nervous.

The Resident Assistant, who was a first-year grad student, asked, "So what seems to be the problem?"

Rebekah swallowed hard, "My roommate breaks curfew fairly regularly, which in itself doesn't both me. However…she's bringing men back to the room. Strangers…from some sort of bar where she works…"

Rosalyn cut her eyes toward Rebekah, her expression livid.

"It…makes me feel unsafe," Rebekah continued, "They could be anyone…and they're not signed in, I assume…"

The director set her gaze on Rosalyn, "Is this true?"

Rosalyn studied her hands for a minute, and then looked up and said, "Yes…I have had some guys in the room."

The director raised an eyebrow, "And do you understand that having unauthorized guests after curfew is grounds for expulsion?"

Rosalyn met her eyes, "Yes, I do. And…" her voice caught suddenly.

Rebekah looked up, startled that Rosalyn would show any emotion. She'd never seen her show anything other than anger and disgust.

"I'm terribly sorry…I just…I'm afraid I broke up with my boyfriend just before the start of this semester," Rosalyn sniffled as a single tear trailed down her face, "I've been trying to make him jealous, I guess…."

Rebekah tried to contain her shock as Rosalyn wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

"I guess I just snapped or something. We dated for three years…"

"Does this boyfriend attend school here?" the R.A. asked softly.

"Yes, he's a Biology major," Rosalyn whispered, "It's just been a difficult semester…"

Rebekah still stared, unable to believe the sudden change in character. She'd never imagined Rosalyn had any feelings, other than hate and unabashed meanness. She suspected her roommate was harboring some sort of dark secret, but she'd never expected she was capable of loving someone.

"You've put your roommate, and the other students, at risk here. Do you understand that?" the R.A. questioned further.

Rosalyn nodded, sniffling, "Yes, I know, and I'm terribly sorry. I just haven't been coping very well…"

"If this stops immediately, we'll call this a warning. However, if this continues, I'll have to report it to the Dean's office," the R.A. then looked at Rebekah, "And the two of you need to find a way to get along. There are no open rooms at this time, unless one of the two of you wants to move into the freshmen dorms next semester."

Rebekah took a slow breath, understanding that she was clearly stuck in this situation until graduation. However, if Rosalyn was indeed simply troubled and sad, perhaps it wasn't so bad. Sad was better than crazy any day. She looked over at her roommate, who was drying her eyes and trying to smile at the director.

They were dismissed then, and Rebekah held the door for Rosalyn. They walked back to their room in silence, and Rebekah snuck a few glances at Rosalyn's tear-stained face. She felt a pang of regret, that she'd said such awful things. It was not generally in her nature to be mean. Rebekah was quick-tempered sometimes, but she never struck with the intent to wound. She was soft, at heart.

When they reached their room, Rebekah pulled open the door. Rosalyn entered behind her, and Rebekah was startled to hear the door slam. She turned around and, in a second, Rosalyn was in her face.

"What right do you think you have, to go tattling on me like we're five years old?" she spat.

"What?" Rebekah was confused.

"What I do in my room is _my_ business, not yours! If you pull something like that again, I'll make sure you fill that spot in the freshman dorm next semester!" Rosalyn threatened menacingly.

Rebekah suddenly realized what had happened. She realized what a truly consummate actor Rosalyn was, "So…all that stuff you said in there…you lied?"

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "It's called acting. It's something _you_ attempt at once in a while, however futilely."

Rebekah narrowed her eyes, her anger growing, "So, you really are just a hateful, spiteful slut? Because, for a minute, I actually felt bad for you!"

"Don't do me any favors," Rosalyn laughed harshly.

"And you're actually a stripper? Really? Is that the _only_ job you could possibly find, in this entire area?" Rebekah challenged.

"Well, not all of us have an allowance coming every month from Mommy and Daddy," Rosalyn fired back.

"There weren't any openings at the local McDonalds, as you so frequently suggest I check into?"

"I make a decent living at what I do. I do _not_ intend to stop just because of your holier-than-thou attitude!"

Rebekah clenched her hands into fists, "Then what do we do? Because I do not intend to keep living with someone who brings back strange men who might kill me!"

"Don't be so dramatic!" Rosalyn shot back.

"Okay…then make me feel better. Do you even know the last names of these people? How do you know, for sure, that they're not psychotic rapists?"

"Because, they're getting what they want from _me_!" Rosalyn screamed.

Rebekah hesitated, and then argued, "And that makes you feel better? There have been what, fifteen…twenty different men up here? Don't you think that maybe that's a sign of some sort of…problem…that you need to work out?"

Rosalyn fixed Rebekah with a hard glare, "Are you _analyzing_ me?"

"Do you want me to just shut up and hate you?" Rebekah threw back.

"I think I want you to mind your own damn business!"

"Believe me, I would like to! But how do I know that one of these guys isn't going to decide to steal everything we own? How do you know he isn't going to come after me or someone down the hall? How do you know they don't want more than easy sex? Can't you get past your selfishness for one minute and consider the potential danger here, for me?"

Rosalyn was very quiet for a moment. She stood facing her bed, and Rebekah was afraid to move. When Rosalyn finally turned, her face was set in a hard, strange expression that Rebekah could not decipher.

"Fine," Rosalyn finally spoke, "I'll play nice. If that's the only way to keep you from having me expelled, I'll follow the rules. But only if you do something for me."

Rebekah warily asked, "What?"

"Reconsider what you're doing here. This business isn't for the weak, and you clearly spend a great deal of time whining. Someone with such a mediocre voice needs a dose of reality, to prepare you for the rejection."

With that, Rosalyn breezed out the door, slamming it behind her.

Rebekah hurled her pillow again, wanting to scream and cry at the same time. Rosalyn surely never ran short on deprecating insults. Still, she'd agreed to 'play nice'. If she kept her word, it was a victory, a small one, but a victory nonetheless.

The next few weeks were fairly calm and, to Rebekah's surprise, Rosalyn kept her word. Their room was free of all male visitors through midterm exams. Both girls were caught up in studying and finishing papers, as well as putting in their required rehearsal time. As seniors, they were both required to participate in the fall musical. This year, it was original, written and orchestrated by a combination of music and playwriting students. Both Rebekah and Rosalyn were cast, along with the rest of the seniors. Rosalyn had a difficult solo, and Rebekah was given a duet with a boy she hardly knew.

Rebekah was starting to feel overwhelmed, even though she'd known at the outset what this semester would bring. It seemed so much harder, though, without having her best friend there at the end of the day. Instead, she was stuck with crazy, hateful Rosalyn.

For stress relief, she often walked the tree-lined paths just beyond the dorms that led to the pond across from the athletic fields. It was a good way to calm her nerves, and find her focus. After a day of academics or dancing, she could clear her head. It also gave her a measure of peace after dealing with the awkward tension in her room. Rebekah had to admit, however, that it was nice that Rosalyn had followed the rules. She wasn't sure if it was out of respect, or simply because being expelled was not an option for Rosalyn. At any rate, Rebekah appreciated it. She had considered saying thank you, but she wasn't sure that her roommate would welcome gratitude.

One evening, after a lengthy musical rehearsal, Rebekah and Rosalyn trudged back to their room. Both girls avoided walking with the other, but they couldn't deny that they were headed in the same direction. In the dorm, they climbed the steps one after the other and filed into their room.

Once inside, Rebekah hoped for some peace and quiet after the chaos of trying to bring up a musical. She pulled her hair loose from its elastic, and then fixed it back into a messy knot atop her head. Then, she flopped down onto her bed and tried to determine what had to be done this evening. Rosalyn flipped open what looked like a math book, most likely for one of her required core classes. They sat there then, with neither of them speaking.

After a few minutes of silence, Rebekah took a deep breath. Her kind-hearted nature made her want to say something to her roommate. They had managed not to argue for a few weeks, and she truly didn't want to live in hostility until graduation. She wanted to believe there was good in Rosalyn, in spite of her deliberate dishonesty. After all, Rosalyn had, in spite of everything, kept her word. Rebekah held out hope that perhaps the rest of this year did not have to be war between them. Plus, she didn't think she could take another evening of tangible, awkward silence.

So she took another breath and hesitantly tried to begin a real conversation. She looked toward Rosalyn and said, "I appreciate that you've, you know, kept your end of the deal…"

Rosalyn looked up, clearly surprised. She nodded, without smiling.

After a moment, Rebekah tried again, "Are you…from somewhere close to here? Because your last name…"

Rosalyn fixed her with a hard glare, "What are you doing?"

Rebekah was startled, "I'm just trying to talk to you. I thought it would be a nice change. I thought we could start over…"

Rosalyn studied her, her dark eyes raking over Rebekah as though she was sizing up her worthiness for conversation. Finally, she conceded, "It's Spanish."

"What?" Rebekah was now confused.

"Gutierrez. My last name. It's Spanish."

"Oh…so are you from…Mexico?" Rebekah fumbled, still startled that Rosalyn had answered.

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "I'm not _from_ anywhere, except Georgia. My grandparents were from Spain. My mother was born there. There's a big difference between Latin America and Spain."

"Oh," Rebekah answered, "Well…where in Georgia, then?"

"Conover, just outside Atlanta. Are we done now, with the sharing?" Rosalyn answered.

Rebekah refused to give up on this rare moment of lessened hostility, though, "I'm from Collins, in north Georgia. It's tiny…just a little mountain town."

There was a long pause, until Rosalyn decided to continue the conversation, "I suppose that explains a lot," she smirked.

"Meaning?" Rebekah challenged.

"It explains why you're so…quaint."

Rebekah wanted to argue, but she was afraid Rosalyn had a point.

"Tell me, have you dated anyone, since you've been here?" Rosalyn asked.

"I'm not here for that," Rebekah stiffened.

"You're idealistic, I'll give you that. You're so squeaky-clean and hard-working. You think all you need is a dream. It must be nice, to see the world through a glass, darkly…"

Rebekah raised an eyebrow, "And now you're quoting the Bible?"

"You think I'm quite the demon, don't you? You must think there's a special place in hell for me," Rosalyn mused.

Rebekah was remorseful, "No, I don't. I just…don't understand all the men…"

Rosalyn cocked her head, "It's just sex. Get over it."

Rebekah blushed and looked away.

Rosalyn studied her, and then asked directly, "Are you a virgin?"

Rebekah blushed further and said, "I don't see why it matters to you, but yes."

Rosalyn looked a bit stunned, but recovered, "What are you…twenty-one? Are you crazy?"

"No. I just know what I want, what I believe. I know what's important to me. Is there something so wrong with that?" Rebekah defended.

"Like I said, it's just…idealistic. Real life isn't so perfect."

"I don't have to sleep around to experience real life."

"Maybe, but you'll never play a decent love scene," Rosalyn said pointedly.

"There's more to love than sex," Rebekah argued.

"Again, idealistic. Maybe you'd do better at some sort of motivational speaking," Rosalyn suggested harshly.

Rebekah sighed, "Do you really just hate me, or is this just how you communicate?"

"I don't like people, in general," Rosalyn turned back to her book.

"Just strange men you meet in bars, then?" Rebekah threw back.

Rosalyn looked up, her eyes ablaze. She pursed her lips, holding back a torrent of fiery retorts. Without a word, she crossed the room and left, slamming the door once again.

_Crap,_ Rebekah thought, immediately angry with herself.

She'd burnt any bridge she'd just built, with her habit of speaking before thinking. Still, she supposed it was something, that Rosalyn had spoken to her at all. For a moment, they'd almost been sharing.

She decided to apologize later, and hope that they might still find some sort of truce. They had, after all, spent maybe five minutes being somewhat civil, and it was a long way until graduation.

Rosalyn refused to be engaged in any further conversation, though. Rebekah apologized and tried to be friendly, but her roommate remained closed-lipped and icy towards her. Rosalyn continued to carefully follow the visitation rules, but on more than one occasion Rebekah caught her stumbling in after curfew looking quite disheveled. Rebekah feared she'd probably not given up her practice of sleeping around. Rosalyn had simply found another way. What that way might be, Rebekah did not want to know.

As the weather finally turned cold and the semester began to draw to its chaotic conclusion, Rebekah found herself unexpectedly summoned to the office of the head of the School of Performing Arts. She had no idea what he might want, since she'd been diligently fulfilling all of her commitments. She desperately wanted this semester to end well, and she couldn't imagine where she might have faltered in her schoolwork. So Rebekah made the trip to Doctor Strathmore's office with a bit of fear lurking within her. She knocked on the door and carefully took a seat across from him, as he directed her.

After a moment, he addressed her, "Miss Rawlings…I appreciate your coming."

Rebekah nodded carefully.

"I have an opportunity I want to present to you," the older man explained.

"An opportunity?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes. The Durham Performing Arts Center is staging a production of _Jekyll & Hyde_ this winter. They want to showcase some of the senior students from our program, and they asked me to recommend a few of you for auditions. I'm not sure exactly what parts they're looking to cast, but it would be good experience. I hope you'll audition. Although, you'll have to make the commute into Durham regularly, and stay on over winter break. You live in upperclassmen housing though, so that shouldn't be a problem," Doctor Strathmore told her.

Rebekah was open-mouthed with shock. She was more than honored that he'd thought of her, and her confidence was given a much-needed boost, "Of course I'll audition! I'm sure my parents won't be too thrilled, with me not coming home, but they'll survive…"

"Good," the doctor looked pleased, "Very good."

She thanked him profusely, and then stumbled towards her next class feeling better than she had in some time. This made her remember why she was here. Chances like this helped abate the general uncertainty with which she struggled.

And so Rebekah found herself making the hour drive into Durham for auditions, and then callbacks, amidst her already ridiculous schedule. The commuting pushed her towards total exhaustion, but she felt good about how she presented herself. Through the audition process, she noticed there were a lot of young actors present. She was excited to have the chance to show what she could do in a professional setting, and she was honored to be on stage with some of the best students in the area.

With the auditions behind her, though, she was forced to put aside that excitement and turn her focus back to school. It would be the beginning of December before she heard anything about casting, and she had other priorities until then. A leading role wouldn't matter if she failed to pass the semester.

Rebekah was generally a focused person, however, her school schedule was beginning to make her a bit manic. She was struggling through a required English course, and Theater History was again proving to be a beast. Rebekah fought to get a decent amount of sleep, and coffee had become her very good friend. In spite of her best efforts, her weariness was showing.

That fact became very apparent in one of the final rehearsals for the fall musical. That Tuesday, she was struggling through her duet with a fellow student named Braden. He was a quiet boy who couldn't seem to get out of his shell. He could certainly sing, but his personality left something to be desired. They'd been working on the same song for at least half an hour.

Halfway through, the director, who was also a professor, stopped them, "You're not feeling this," she explained, "This is your first love, the first person you've ever really cared about. You've got to communicate that hunger, that raw, illogical, first-kiss kind of emotion!"

Rebekah sighed and ran a hand through her long, corkscrew curls. She looked over at Braden, who was chewing his nails and looking afraid. He nearly leapt backward any time she touched him. She had no idea how to sing this song without scaring him to death, and she knew her trepidation was showing.

They took it from the top again, and Rebekah tried to reach out for him. She tried to take his hand and communicate a believable desire to kiss him. He still looked petrified, though, and she knew their performance was mediocre, at best. She was more than frustrated, as she struggled through the rest of the song. As they finished, Rebekah heard a silvery peal of laughter, and she searched for the source. Her eyes landed on Rosalyn, who was sitting to the side of the house, smirking.

Professor Dufresne caught the distraction as well, and turned, "Did you have some sort of commentary, Miss Gutierrez?"

To all of their surprise, Rosalyn spoke up, "I just think it's a bit ridiculous, to expect a self-professed virgin to know anything about passion. I think perhaps that's the root of Miss Rawlings' troubles."

The other students looked shocked, and then began to cover their mouths in poorly concealed laughter. Rosalyn rarely spoke up, but it was common knowledge by now that she and Rebekah lived together. However odd they might think Rosalyn was, her snobbery was overlooked in light of this new gossip.

Rebekah felt her eyes fill with angry, embarrassed tears. She began to tremble, and she tried to get a hold of her emotions. She knew Rosalyn had taken a cheap shot, and that this was the reaction she'd hoped for. In spite of all of Rebekah's efforts, her roommate thrived off of using her sharp tongue to wound, whenever possible. Rebekah knew she should take a breath and just keep rehearsing. It wasn't as though Rosalyn had revealed something Rebekah wouldn't have admitted on her own, had someone asked. Still, she was tired and frustrated, and her nerves were shot.

So Rebekah turned and ran. She ran from the building and into the welcome darkness of the empty courtyard behind the theater. There, she sank down onto a bench and let a few tears fall. Then, she wiped them furiously away, hating herself for being such a wreck. She was angry, because Rosalyn had no right to reveal something that had been shared in confidence. However, Rosalyn admitted to disliking people in general, so what would she know about the rules of sharing personal information?

Rebekah then turned her frustration on herself. She had spent years working toward this time, when she would soon step out into the world and hopefully grace a professional stage. She wanted it, but she couldn't even seem to communicate a simple love song effectively. She just couldn't slip on the mask and become someone else as easily as some of the others. It made her question the general direction in which she was headed, again.

_If I can't handle Rosalyn…if I can't brush her off and do what I know to do, how will I ever go up against the best singers out there? If I can't fake romance with Braden, how will a real director ever cast me?_

The questions were hard, and Rebekah had no answers. All she knew was that her senior year was nearly half over, and she'd never been more afraid. She'd never been so unsure, and so lonely. She'd never wanted to quit, until now. For the first time, Rebekah felt the full burden of the path she'd chosen. She couldn't help but think of the passage Rosalyn had so flippantly quoted a few weeks previous.

_When I was a child, I spoke as a child,  
I understood as a child, I thought as a child,  
but when I became a man, I put away childish things.  
For now we see through a glass, darkly;  
but then face to face…_

Rebekah understood that she had just a few short months to determine if she could see this through. She was no longer a child, and the haven of the university was almost behind her. It was time to shore up her spirit and press on, or decide that she didn't have the courage and return to Collins to teach drama at the local high school. The right answer had once seemed so obvious, but now, she was full of doubt. As she sat there in the moonlit darkness, Rebekah was paralyzed by the gravity of the choice.

_Quote from 1 Corinthians 13:11-12_


	5. Chapter 5: What Is This Feeling?

**Chapter 5: What is this Feeling?**

_Present Day, Atlanta_

Rebekah shook herself from her memories, realizing how long they'd been standing on the stage without speaking. Jonathan looked from her to Rosalyn, trying to determine what was transpiring.

There was another long, awkward silence before he finally asked, "Do the two of you know each other?"

"Yes…" Rosalyn finally answered, "Our paths did cross…at school."

Rebekah studied her, trying to determine if she intended to be humorous. Rosalyn stared back, her face set in a tiny smirk.

Jonathan laughed, and added, "How very appropriate. I suppose it's good, that you know each other. It'll make it easier to relate to each other on stage."

Rebekah had to suppress a snort. She sincerely doubted her previous experience with Rosalyn would afford them any special bond on stage. However, she wasn't willing to risk this opportunity by explaining how very thoroughly they hated one another. Instead, she finished the quote, stating, "But it was a long time ago, and we were both, very young…"

Jonathan chuckled again, "I see Galinda in you already. Why don't the two of you find the dressing rooms and put your stuff down? We'll meet back here in ten minutes and go through some blocking."

Both women nodded, and headed back into the hallway that led to the dressing rooms and rehearsal spaces. Rosalyn brushed past Rebekah without a word and disappeared around the corner. Rebekah took a deep breath and tried to focus on what was important. She had been cast in an incredible part, about she was about to start an incredible run. She'd been given a phenomenal opportunity, and she was no longer the uncertain student she'd once been. She had worked hard for this, and she knew the challenges. She was as qualified as Rosalyn, and she would not back down. Rebekah would not allow an old enemy to steal her focus or change her path. She'd done that once, and it was a lesson learned.

She continued down the hall, looking at each door until she found one with a sheet of paper labeled _Galinda_ stuck to it. Rebekah understood that she and Rosalyn were the only ones with their own, private dressing rooms. She dropped her coat and her purse in the one chair in the room. Then, she took a moment and studied the space. It was small and well worn, as was typical of most dressing rooms. The counter was chipped and covered with makeup stains from hundreds of shows. The mirror was brightly lit, and the empty rack behind her waited for sparkling costumes. It was an altogether ordinary space, but Rebekah couldn't help smiling.

_This is where I'll be Galinda-fied,_ she laughed to herself.

Then, she pulled her focus, and fished her script and a pencil from her bag. There was much work to be done, and sentimentality would have to wait.

Back in the theater, she and Rosalyn stood center stage as Jonathan considered where to begin.

He addressed them, saying, "You should understand, you've been given a great opportunity, and a great challenge. You were up against many actors who were all older and more seasoned than the two of you. It's hard to find exactly the right people for these parts, but there's never a shortage of people who want it. You both exceeded our expectations. However, you have been cast in two extremely popular roles, roles that have been defined by the people who did this before you. You are competing with your audience's preexisting expectations. That is a challenge, because a lot of your audiences already know what they want from you before you sing a note. You'll be compared with some of the best voices that have ever graced the stage. Your challenge will be to hit every mark, every note, and every line, as the show demands, while putting something of yourself into this part. You are going to have to try to own a character that a lot of fans already feel like they own."

Rebekah took a breath. She was still a bit awestruck at the magnitude of what she was doing. Still, she'd earned it, and she was not afraid.

Jonathan continued, "Rosalyn comes from the other tour of this show, where she's been the standby. That will help, but this is an entirely different cast. Things will be different. Bringing up a new production of this show is not easy, so prepare yourself for an interesting ride. Now, let's go through your marks for the scenes with just the two of you..."

With that, he had them take their places for _What is This Feeling._ As they crossed to the downstage corners, Rebekah felt a twinge of deja-vu. She couldn't help remembering the first time she and Rosalyn had been forced to sing together. This wasn't the first time they'd stood on opposite sides of a stage.

Rebekah took a calming breath. She tried to remember how long ago that had been. Certainly, this would go more smoothly than their last pairing had, so many years before.


	6. Chapter 6: Who I Am

**Chapter 6: Who I Am**

_Six years previous, Central North Carolina_

It was just days after final exams when Rebekah received the final call regarding casting for _Jekyll and Hyde._ When the girl on the other end of the phone told her how she'd been cast, Rebekah nearly fainted.

"Emma?" she squeaked, "How can I be Emma? I'm just a student…"

"I have no idea," the rather bored sounding girl answered, "I just make the phone calls…"

"Oh…but I just…are you sure?" Rebekah whispered.

"Yes," was the curt answer.

"Well…okay…I'll be there Monday, then," Rebekah concluded. She hung up the phone and stared at it for some time, trying to decide if this was really happening. She knew the director had wanted to showcase some students, but she'd never expected to be cast into a lead part. She thought surely there must have been more qualified actors out there. Certainly she was not the best singer they could find.

_You should stop second-guessing yourself. They wanted you for a reason, _she tried to tell herself.

Still, when she reported for her first rehearsal and picked up her script and music, she half expected for someone to laugh and say there'd been a misunderstanding. However, her name was clearly printed just below the name 'Emma', written on her script. She flipped through the pages as she made her way into the house of the theater in Durham. She took a seat near the front with a few others, to wait.

In just a few moments, the director appeared and began to address them. He explained how the performing arts center was new, and was growing in its repertoire. This, apparently, was the first time they'd commissioned a show of this scale.

Rebekah looked around at the others in the room as she listened. There were several who also looked like students, and many who looked like seasoned actors. They were all local, she knew, because this was to be a showcase of talent from the area. As Rebekah scanned the faces, she suddenly stopped. A few rows back, to her left, sat Rosalyn. Rebekah's stomach dropped. She knew she shouldn't be surprised. They'd asked Doctor Strathmore to recommend the best students from the program, and Rosalyn was the best. Rebekah silently began to pray that they would be cast in such a way that they could simply avoid one another.

However, as the director concluded his remarks and sent the ensemble members away to rehearse with the music director, she noted that Rosalyn stayed. After the dancers were dismissed to their dance captain, only the leads remained. Rebekah swallowed. This was certainly doing nothing to calm her nerves.

The director addressed them again, briefly, "…and I'm proud to have two senior students from Central Carolina playing our female leads, Miss Rebekah Rawlings as Emma, and Miss Rosalyn Gutierrez as Lucy. I believe you ladies will be excellent representatives of the Musical Theater department at the university."

Rebekah tried to nod and smile.

_How did I not know about this?_ she asked herself, and then realized she and Rosalyn must have been called back on opposite days.

Now, she was torn between two emotions. On one hand, she was sick at the idea of having to work, once again, with her sharp-tongued roommate. However, she felt a touch of pride that they'd felt she was Rosalyn's equal. It boosted her confidence a bit, and Rebekah knew she would need it. She would need confidence, and perhaps a bottle of aspirin, if she was going to be sharing a stage, and apparently a song, with Rosalyn.

The following week went rather smoothly, and Rebekah was glad to be able to focus solely on the show. With classes over for the winter break, the dorms were quiet, and she had time to get into this new role she'd been given. It was a difficult part, because essentially she and Rosalyn's character, Lucy, were in love with the same man. However, his personality was split into two very different people. Emma was sweet, innocent, and well-meaning, but Lucy was raw, real, and something of an anti-heroine. It was hard to say who the audience should cheer for. Rebekah found it hard to decide, herself, who exactly represented good and evil in this story.

So she spent a great deal of time trying to understand Emma, and to communicate her fear and uncertainty through the music. Since she was still shackled to living with Rosalyn, Rebekah tried to get out of their room as often as possible. She went for long walks near the pond and sang the songs at the top of her voice, stretching for the highest notes while focusing on clarity. Rebekah was proud of herself, in spite of how inadequate she often felt. She was glad she'd been the given this opportunity, even if it had made her parents a bit sad.

"We're happy for you," her mother had said over the phone recently, "but we really wanted you home these few weeks. It's your last break before you graduate…"

"I know, Mama. But I promise to be there for Christmas. We get a few days off, then…" she'd consoled.

Her mother had sighed and tried to be encouraging, which was her way. Rebekah knew it was hard for them, because she was their only child. When they'd packed her up for college four years ago, Rebekah thought they would never recover. She would always remember her mother's tear-stained face as she'd tried to look happy that afternoon. It had also been difficult for Rebekah to be away from everything she'd known. She'd had Hayleigh, though, and that had softened the blow.

Now, doing this show was just another step in letting go. She'd chosen a career path that wouldn't allow her to stay in little Collins, Georgia. Her parents were wonderful, though. She appreciated their willingness to smile through the tears and let her chase her dreams.

_Which is why I have to make something of this, _she often resolved, _If I'm going to step out into this crazy world, it's not going to be in vain…_

So, as the weather became a bit blustery and the occasional frost graced the bare trees, Rebekah made the daily drive into Durham. Her script became tattered and worn as she marked and scribbled, and her performance was good, she thought. And so was Rosalyn.

One Friday, about two weeks before Christmas, Rebekah sat in the empty theater, waiting for her music rehearsal. She watched as Rosalyn ran through her solos. In spite of herself, Rebekah was momentarily captivated. For all of Rosalyn's hateful banter and snobbish attitude, she was mesmerizing on stage. She looked out into the darkness where the audience would be, and sang her haunting solo.

_Look at me, and tell me who I am.  
Why I am, what I am._

_Call me a fool, and it's true I am.  
I don't know…who I am…_

Alone on the stage, Rosalyn's face was the picture of tragic uncertainty. Her eyes were dark and desperate and, for a moment, Rebekah wanted to believe she was seeing something of Rosalyn's soul.

_It's such a shame, I'm such a sham.  
No one knows who I am._

_Am I the face of the future?  
Am I the face of the past?  
Am I the one who must finish…last?_

_Look at me, and tell me who I am,  
Why I am, what I am._

_Will I survive?  
Who will give a damn,  
If no one knows…who I am?_

In spite of knowing just how gifted an actor Rosalyn was, Rebekah was moved. Rosalyn sang from something deep within herself, from some pit of emotion that made her audience want to both cheer and sob. Her face was full of desperate longing and unabashed need, and her voice was pure and effortless. She dipped down into the lower soprano register, and then soared upward with power, even in such a mellow song.

_Nobody knows…  
Not even you…_

No one knows who I am…

For a moment, as Rosalyn finished singing, Rebekah wanted to forgive her. She wanted to forget all the hatred and try to understand this horribly captivating woman. The spell was broken, though, when the music ended.

Rosalyn dropped the mask of Lucy when she saw Rebekah, "It's your turn to sing, my sweet _ingénue_," her voice dripped with sarcasm as Rebekah made her way towards the stage.

Rebekah ignored her, which was coming somewhat easier. It was, in fact, her turn. And there was much work to be done.

The week of Christmas, the cast was given a few days off to celebrate the holidays as they chose. Rebekah didn't realize how badly she'd wanted to come home until she stepped through her front door after the five-hour drive from Greensboro. She stood there for a minute, taking in the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked apple pie. Her parents had painstaking put up the Christmas tree, as always, and the scent of pine lingered as well.

It was colder here, in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. The air was crisper, and snow threatened to fall. The community didn't see much, generally, but the top of Brasstown Bald was often covered with a white dusting once winter took hold.

This was the place where Rebekah found her solace. She'd grown up running barefoot through the forest and hiking Tallulah Gorge in the summer. She'd gone swimming in the rock-strewn creek a mile from her house, and she'd sold polished stones at the old store just outside of town for a penny. She'd learned to drive on the winding, hairpin turns of the highways. She'd grown up hearing about how, at one time, these mountains had stood taller than the Rockies. Time had weathered them to the lush, rolling, mist-covered peaks that were now called the Smoky Mountains. Now, as Rebekah stood in the entryway of her house, she felt that wonderful sense of just belonging once more. These were her mountains. This was home.

"Becca?" her mother called, as she came shuffling from the kitchen.

"It's me," she returned.

Gayle Rawlings came around the corner of the stairway and wrapped her daughter in a tight embrace, "We've missed you so much…"

"I know," Rebekah returned, "But I promise you, I'm working hard. This is what I've truly always wanted…"

Gayle sighed, "I know…I just wish you could star in something here…"

Rebekah chuckled, "The only theater we have here shows old movies for a dollar."

"Don't you start thinking you're too good for this town," her mother teased.

"Never, Mama," Rebekah smiled.

After putting her bags in her old room, Rebekah met her parents in the kitchen for dinner. It was so wonderfully ordinary, so perfectly routine to be sitting down together like they had for so many years.

Rebekah's parents were nothing, if not consistent. They were both sandy-haired and average height. The wrinkles that had begun to appear on their faces were from laughter and hard work. Gayle had been a housewife since her daughter was born, and Rebekah's first memories were of her mother waiting for her after the long bus ride from school, with cookies. Mrs. Rawlings had only recently taken up a part-time position as an accountant, now that her daughter was grown. She'd never complained, never acted as though she wasn't thrilled to focus her energies on her child. She'd directed the church musicals and made uniforms for the school dance team. She'd hosted the slumber parties and drove the carpools.

As for Rebekah's father, he had happily gone off to work every day for the past twenty-five years to the paper company at the base of the mountain. They were ordinary people, who were comfortable with who they were. There were no secrets or hidden yearnings for a different life. This was the life they wanted, and so they understood when Rebekah had chosen differently.

_I forget how lucky I am, _she told herself as they ate, _This is a rarity, to have such good parents…_

Perhaps the only thing she'd wanted to be different about her family was the lack of siblings. But then, Hayleigh had filled that spot rather quickly in Rebekah's life.

Hayleigh Giavonno had smacked Rebekah the first day in their toddler playgroup, and then cried when Rebekah wouldn't play with her. It had been Hayleigh who had stood up for her much taller friend on the playground, and had come over to Rebekah's house nearly every weekend to sleep over. They had spent afternoons at each other's houses, doing homework in Rebekah's room or tormenting Hayleigh's brothers. The Giavonno household was as loud as Rebekah's had been quiet, and it created a nice balance.

_We balance each other, _Rebekah often thought.

So she was thrilled when Hayleigh called later that night to say that she would be in Collins for Christmas as well. They chatted on the phone, catching up and making plans.

Two days later, when Hayleigh was due to arrive, Rebekah's mother teased her about how absolutely giddy she was. When Hayleigh finally rang the bell, Rebekah threw open the door. They squealed and hugged, and then took off upstairs just like they had when they were children.

In Rebekah's room, Hayleigh asked, "So, how many days do you have?"

"Until the day after Christmas. Rehearsals start again the next day."

"That gives us four days…" Hayleigh mused.

"We can do a lot of damage in four days," Rebekah smiled.

Hayleigh threw a pillow at her, "As if we ever did any damage to begin with."

"We covered Mr. Strickland's house in silly string," Rebekah reminded her.

"Ah, yes…the brilliant ideas of eighth graders…"

"It was worth all the time we spent cleaning it up, though," Rebekah laughed.

"I don't know…that was a nasty mess…" Hayleigh scrunched up her nose.

"True. So, how was _The Nutcracker?_" Rebekah asked.

"Decent, as far as that show goes. I feel like I've done it about a million times, though."

"Yeah…I suppose that's every dancer's lot…to dance _Nutcracker_ over and over," Rebekah agreed.

"How's the play? Is it kicking your butt yet?" Hayleigh teased.

Rebekah smiled, "Nearly. It's definitely not easy. Sometimes, I think this part is way beyond me…"

Hayleigh slapped her lightly on the arm, "How many times have I told you to stop? You have to stop second-guessing yourself. You only struggle because you're afraid."

"Well, we're not all like you…you know, ready to jump off the top of the set with no harness…" Rebekah argued.

Hayleigh rolled her eyes, "I only did that once."

"I think I would be able to relax if I didn't have Rosalyn trying to bore a hole through my head with her eyes. I swear, she thinks I'm about twelve years old! She thinks she has a corner on understanding love songs because she's trying to set some sort of record for sleeping around!" Rebekah vented.

"You really can't get away from this girl, can you?" Hayleigh sympathized.

"No! I had no idea who she was, before August. Now, she's everywhere. It's like I lost a bet and have to walk around with her attached to me! She's there when I wake up, she's there when I want to take a shower, she's there trying to sing louder than me…all the time!" Rebekah squeaked.

"Calm down," Hayleigh said, "Don't let crazy girl derail you."

"Sorry," Rebekah breathed, "She's just so darn mean. And I told you what she did during rehearsal for the winter musical…"

Hayleigh rolled her eyes, "She just thinks she has some control because she knows something personal about you. Some people are twisted like that. I say, turn it on her."

"What?"

Hayleigh's bright eyes became mischievous, "Turn it on her. There has to be something about her she doesn't want people to know. At rehearsal, you could point out how _appropriate_ it is that she's playing a hooker, considering…"

"You know that's not me. I could never say that in front of people."

"You can absolutely get loud and shrill when you get upset," Hayleigh pointed out.

"Maybe," Rebekah conceded, "but that's just me ranting. There's no planned attack."

"Well, there has to be something about her that you could use to take her down a peg. Nobody's perfect," Hayleigh grumbled.

Rebekah thought for a moment, "Even if that's true, how would I ever find out anything about her? It took me like two months to learn how to say her last name."

Hayleigh shrugged, "I don't know. Google her. Find out where she's from. Maybe there's something…"

"Google her?" Rebekah shook her head, laughing.

"I don't know…it might work," Hayleigh laughed at her own suggestion.

Rebekah rolled her eyes good naturedly.

Still, Hayleigh's words stayed with her overnight, and the following morning she was up early. Rebekah flipped open her computer, for lack of anything else to do. She felt a bit ridiculous, but she was curious, if nothing else. She'd always had a bit of a weakness for gossip. So she pulled up her internet browser and started by typing in Rosalyn's name and her hometown, Conover. It was all she had to go on, and Rebekah doubted this would turn up anything of merit. People generally didn't post their dark secrets on Google.

After several minutes of clicking through useless pages, and a few that turned out to be porn, Rebekah stumbled onto something. It was an online article from a local newspaper, and the title read, _Local Student Wins Prestigious Scholarship._

Rebekah clicked for the full story, and scanned it. Deciding it might, indeed, be talking about Rosalyn, she started over. It detailed how Rosalyn had been awarded the highly sought after Lawrence Scholarship to Central Carolina University. The article read:

…_a very lucrative scholarship to the highly praised College of Performing Arts, one of the strongest programs at Central Carolina. Students are admitted to the college by audition only, and the competition is stiff. The city of Conover is proud to have a student like Miss Gutierrez representing our community…_

The story went on to praise Rosalyn's high school academic career, stating:

…_has maintained a solid 4.0 GPA for her four years at North Conover High School, as well as scoring 1490 on her SAT exams. This scholarship is clearly well-deserved, as Miss Gutierrez is as excellent a student as she is a performer…_

Rebekah sat there for a minute, stunned. She was perplexed, because this was not what she expected to find. Granted, she hadn't expected to find anything. She picked up her phone and quickly dialed Hayleigh, hoping she was awake.

"What?" Hayleigh answered, sounding drowsy.

"Sorry…I'm being a bit crazy, but guess what I found?"

"What?"

"An article on Rosalyn. Apparently, she's some kind of genius."

"What?" Hayleigh repeated.

"I found this article from the place she said she's from. It has to be her. How many people do you know with a name like Rosalyn Gutierrez? She got the Lawrence scholarship. That's a totally free ride," Rebekah explained.

"Okay…so she's smart. People can be both mean and smart," Hayleigh rationalized.

"Yeah…but she got a 1490 on her SAT. That's ridiculous."

"Well…maybe she just studied."

"No…you have to be incredibly intelligent to score that," Rebekah argued.

"All I'm saying," Hayleigh yawned, "is that maybe she just wanted it more than anyone else. Sure, she must be smart. But I don't know about genius. Maybe she just wanted to get out of Conover that badly."

Rebekah sighed, "I don't know, maybe. All I know right now is that I've just succeeded in finding another way she makes me feel stupid. What an awesome way to spend an hour."

Hayleigh laughed, "I'm going back to sleep. Call me at noon and we'll get lunch. And you are not allowed to talk about this anymore. Let it go. You have heart, Becca, and that's what matters."

Rebekah smiled, because that was one truth with which she would not argue.


	7. Chapter 7: The Caldera

**Chapter 7: The Caldera**

After the warmth and frivolity of the Christmas holiday, Rebekah found herself somewhat disheartened at returning to school. In four years, she'd never been this despondent on the return trip. It was troublesome, and even before classes began, she was feeling stressed and worn down. Rehearsals were running long and often ground her patience into nothing. Her script was filled with re-workings of her blocking, and her voice was feeling the strain of singing for hours on end. Rebekah hoped the production would come together well in the end, but for the moment they were all feeling a bit of frustration.

As she made the drive to Durham each morning, Rebekah struggled with a nagging case of homesickness. She knew Hayleigh had been right, when she'd said Rebekah's troubles stemmed from fear. Still, she wondered if her fear was a sign that she just wasn't ready for all of this. It was the same, internal battle she'd been fighting since September. The closer she came to graduation, the more she questioned her future. Rebekah had thought this year would breeze by, as a sort of low hurdle on her way to real life. Now, she saw it as the proving ground. This year was an hourglass, with the sand of her childhood slowly running out.

When the spring semester finally began, the addition of classes to Rebekah's hectic schedule felt like an avalanche. Her academic advisor had helped her rework her schedule so that she could attend rehearsals, and even allowed her to count the show as her senior practicum credit. However, it was still far more work than she'd planned. It did, however, make her feel a touch better to see that Rosalyn was showing signs of fatigue as well. For the first time, Rebekah saw her falter on stage, dropping a few lines and not belting the high notes at full power. She refused to confess her struggles to Rebekah, though, and would only cast withering glances as they rehearsed.

One Tuesday afternoon, a few weeks into the semester, the two girls were working on the duet they shared at the end of the production. Rebekah was sipping warm tea between runs, trying to soothe her overworked voice. The director gave them a few minutes rest while he reconsidered how he'd blocked them. Then, he repositioned them and had them sing through the song again.

Rebekah felt as though it was mostly going well, until they reached the point at which the tempo picked up and they fell into harmony together. In spite of the written music, Rosalyn took the upper melody line, throwing off the blend. This time, when the music director stopped them, Rebekah glared at Rosalyn and stomped across the stage to retrieve her tea.

The director flipped through his papers and asked, "Are you singing what's written, Miss Gutierrez?"

More than frustrated, Rebekah answered, "No, she is not! The upper line is mine! That's what's wrong."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't have to take it if she could hit it with any sort of power. Honestly, she sounds like a screeching mouse. She's not strong enough."

Rebekah's temper took over, and she slapped her script down onto a stool and stepped into Rosalyn's face, "I have _never_ sounded like a screeching mouse! I have no trouble with the music, as written! I just can't sing it _over you_!"

"Ladies! We certainly don't have time for arguing," the music director cut in, and then studied his music.

"You don't have a decent belt. You never have. Just let it go," Rosalyn hissed.

Rebekah had never wanted to slap someone as much as she did in that moment, "I am more than capable of singing this song!" she shot back.

Rosalyn snorted just as the music director addressed them, "I want you to try this again. Miss Gutierrez, sing it as written. Miss Rawlings, you have to sing that last note with power. As she backs off, you have to get stronger. Don't lose any of your strength. It's the high note at the end of this song that we remember."

Rebekah nodded, and Rosalyn fixed her with a menacing glare. As they sang it through one final time, Rebekah gave it all she had. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine sharing her true love with another woman. It would a bit like this, she decided. She was sharing her love of the stage with Rosalyn, and competing for the audience's attention. Much like Emma, she was struggling with whether to walk away, or fight for what she loved. For Rebekah, that was the connection she needed. She focused on the feeling, and sang it. This time, the note was true and strong, and she could tell Rosalyn realized it. For a moment, she saw a flicker of something in Rosalyn's face, as though she'd been forced to finally recognize Rebekah's real potential.

They were dismissed then, since the music director was somewhat satisfied. He praised Rebekah and then gathered up his papers for the day. Rebekah collected her things and started to make her way out the back door. She was finally happy with what she'd accomplished, but she also knew that she had some very monotonous homework waiting for her in her room.

As she started to push open the stage door, Rosalyn stopped her. Looking into Rebekah's eyes, she said, "You were good just then, I'll give you that. But you're so typical. You're the little blonde damsel in distress. You're the fluffy, whiny character with about as much depth as a puddle. And that's what you'll be in every show you do. You're a sweet voice and a pretty face, but there's a million of you out there. You should call this show your one chance to shine and then go back where you came from. It'll save you some heartbreak, believe me."

With that, Rosalyn breezed through the door and let it slam in Rebekah's face. She stood there, fuming. After a moment, Rebekah pushed through the door and slammed it again, just for good measure. Then, she drove home, cursing Rosalyn the entire way.

* * *

In her room the next evening, Rebekah dialed Hayleigh. That day's rehearsal had been just as difficult, and she needed some encouragement that only her best friend could give. When Hayleigh picked up, Rebekah vented to her about the previous day.

"I told you before, Becca, you've got to let it go," Hayleigh said, "She's trying to bother you. It won't be the last time this happens to you. One of the dancers last fall actually spit on me."

"Why?" Rebekah was disgusted.

"Because I stood in her spot by accident. I'm telling you, there are some horrible people out there. It's just part of the job. You have to ignore it."

Rebekah sighed heavily, "I know. Maybe that's the problem. I'm just not cut out to ignore it."

"You have to realize how good you are, and focus on that. Don't go on an ego trip, but don't get discouraged at every snide, jealous comment. Believe me, there's going to be a lot of them. Just move on," Hayleigh explained.

"I'm just not sure I can do that," Rebekah countered, "This year, I've suddenly realized how much I lean on other people for support. It makes me question whether talent is enough…"

"You're right, it's not. You've just got to stop being so soft and put your heart into your performance. And tell Rosalyn you could care less what she thinks. Tell her she's a heartless bitch, and that very few audiences relate to that," Hayleigh argued.

Rebekah chuckled, "And then she'd punch me in the face."

"No she won't. She doesn't want to get fired. I know her type," Hayleigh disagreed.

"Maybe…but I still have to live with her," Rebekah chewed her lip.

"Look, you just have to let her know you're not backing down. Don't be afraid of her. You are absolutely just as talented," Hayleigh encouraged.

"And that, right there, is the reason I called you," Rebekah smiled.

"I know, but you can't lean on me for that. You've got to know it yourself."

Rebekah sighed, because she knew that was true.

They talked for a few more minutes, and then she hung up the phone. Rebekah lay on her bed for a few minutes, trying to work up the energy to tackle the paper she had due the following week. In an effort to get herself motivated, she flipped open her computer. However, instead of working, she clicked her internet browser and typed in Rosalyn's name again.

Rebekah knew she was being silly, but she was acting on desperation and a need to procrastinate. Also, deep down, she still hoped she might stumble across something that would at least prove that her roommate was not perfect. It was hard to brush off the scathing remarks of someone who was so consummately talented. It was clear that Rosalyn's harassment had nothing to do with feeling unsatisfied with her own abilities. And Rebekah wasn't sure what she would do, if she found something, but she figured it might give her some leverage. Some embarrassing pictures might shut Rosalyn up for a few days.

After some time, though, all Rebekah had turned up was the same article as before. She read through it again, still amazed at her roommate's achievements. It was a bit sickening, to know that someone could be so uniquely gorgeous, and smart, and talented. It was no wonder that Rosalyn could care less who she slept with. She was perfect, and who wouldn't want perfect?

Yawning, Rebekah was ready to give up when a piece of the article suddenly caught her attention. She reread the sentence, having only skimmed it before.

…_Rosalyn Gutierrez, a student of North Conover High School, originally from Farrow, South Carolina…_

It was a passing reference, and it had not been significant enough for Rebekah to fix on until she'd read the article several times. She chewed her lip and went back to the search bar. This time, she typed in Rosalyn's name and added 'Farrow, South Carolina'. After a moment, the results appeared. There were the usual junk and partial matches for her name. Rebekah was getting tired and was nearly ready to give up again, when something else caught her eye. A few pages into the search, another article appeared. It was from a small, insignificant newspaper, and the title read:

_Local Girl Acquitted of All Charges_

Curious, Rebekah clicked on the link. She scanned the article, and then drew a quick breath. Shocked, she started over. The lines that stood out the most read:

_All charges against fourteen year-old Rosalyn Gutierrez have been dropped, as it has been determined she acted in self defense in the shooting death of her father. Facing the possibility of being tried as an adult, it was the testimony of both her mother and a neighbor that caused police to drop the charges against the teenager. _

Rebekah's mouth hung open as she read the rest of the story, which detailed how Rosalyn's frantic, Spanish-speaking mother had called police in a screaming fit some seven years ago. It had taken several days to sort out what had occurred, and it was ultimately the neighbor's willingness to cooperate that had caused the charges against Rosalyn to be dropped. Citing privacy for the family, the police were unwilling to disclose exactly what had transpired, but simply stated that the young teenager 'felt her life was in imminent and very real jeopardy and acted to defend herself'. Apparently, Rosalyn's father had been serving as a police officer, and she had shot him with his own gun. Since juvenile records were sealed, the newspaper was unable to determine if Rosalyn had any previous criminal record.

After reading the story twice, Rebekah sat on her bed, stunned. She felt a twinge of something in her stomach, and she wasn't sure if it was fear or sympathy. On one hand, she could only imagine what must have happened, to cause Rosalyn to shoot her own father. Rebekah's very vanilla upbringing had not caused her to spend much time thinking about what horrors might happen in a dysfunctional home. However, she wasn't entirely naïve. She realized there were teenagers out there with very serious psychological problems, who were often violent. True, Rosalyn had been cleared of all charges, but that didn't conclusively prove she wasn't dangerous. If she'd been as accomplished an actor then as she was now, she could have made anyone believe she felt her life was in danger.

After several minutes, Rebekah still had no idea how she was supposed to feel. She'd hoped to find perhaps some embarrassing Facebook pictures. Instead, there was this. And this was certainly not something she could announce in rehearsal. Rebekah couldn't very well go to her director and say, "By the way, I think one of your actors is a psychopath." She didn't even want to confront Rosalyn with this, alone. If her roommate was crazy, she certainly didn't want to challenge her any further.

Rebekah sighed and sent the article to her printer before snapping her computer shut. She retrieved the pages after a moment and stuck them underneath one of her books, on her desk. She wasn't sure what she planned to do with it, although a tiny part of her thought it might provide an explanation if Rosalyn went crazy and killed them both. Rebekah shook off the thought, calling it ridiculous. Then, she flopped back against her pillows and tried to get rid of the gnawing sense of uneasiness she felt. She began to wonder what sort of special sin she'd committed, to be plunged into this mess. What were the odds that she would be housed with the one truly crazy person on campus? And then, as she fretted, Rebekah couldn't help but fixate on the phrase, _felt her life was in imminent and very real jeopardy and acted to defend herself._ If Rosalyn wasn't crazy, then what sort of horrors would make her fear for her life?

Rebekah began to wish she'd just left well enough alone and ignored Rosalyn. Now, the whole situation was making her a nervous wreck. So she closed her eyes and counted down the weeks until graduation. She tried to make herself focus on the show and the work she had to accomplish. She tried not to let her mind wander over all the possible ramifications of what she'd just read. Rosalyn was some sort of ball of insanity, wrapped in a very attractive package. Rebekah just wanted to move on with her own life. She knew nothing about real tragedy, and she wasn't equipped to analyze her roommate. She just wanted to survive the semester, both physically and emotionally, and forget she'd ever known Rosalyn Gutierrez.

* * *

Two weeks later, in the early part of February, a winter storm moved across the area and dropped a couple inches of snow and ice. This type of weather was fleeting in the Carolinas, and usually melted as fast as it collected. Still, travel was usually impeded for a day or so, and Rebekah and Hayleigh found themselves stuck in the dorm room. It was Saturday, and Hayleigh had come up for a weekend visit. Neither of them had expected the snow, and now they struggled with what to do with the day.

"We could walk to Marco's, on the corner," Rebekah suggested, "They have good coffee."

"That sounds like a long, cold walk," Hayleigh commented.

"True…or we could stay here and have ramen noodles," Rebekah returned.

Hayleigh laughed, "Ah yes…the lunch of champions."

Rebekah rummaged through her non-perishable food collection. After a moment, she produced a box and said, "I've got macaroni. I think I can make that in the microwave…"

"This is going to be interesting," Hayleigh chuckled.

"Hey…as long as I can boil water, we'll have food," Rebekah teased.

"Your culinary skills are amazing."

Rebekah threw a plastic spoon in Hayleigh's direction.

"So you've only got, what…four weeks until the show opens?" Hayleigh changed the subject.

Rebekah nodded as she mixed noodles and water, "Yep, and it's right around midterms, too. That'll be a blast."

"At least you're getting some credit for it," Hayleigh said.

"Yeah, and it's been a good experience, if a somewhat painful one. I have a feeling this has been a learning experience for all involved. There've been times I felt like even the director thought he'd jumped in over his head. Durham's theater program is still pretty new," Rebekah explained.

Hayleigh nodded, "I think I'll be staying on in Charlotte at least through this year. They have some good stuff coming up, and they seem to like me. Their local program is strong enough."

"Maybe I'll move down there with you, when I finally get out of here," Rebekah smiled.

"That would make my year," Hayleigh beamed.

"Believe me…you wouldn't be nearly as happy to have me as I would be to get out of this room," Rebekah said dryly.

Hayleigh rolled her eyes and flipped open Rebekah's script, out of curiosity. Rebekah finished the macaroni and presented her friend with their somewhat pathetic lunch. As they ate, Rebekah was lost in thought for a few minutes.

Finally, she said, "Hayleigh…can I ask you something?"

"Always."

"Do you think I could ever play…like a dark character? Maybe someone evil?"

Hayleigh looked up, "You are hardly evil."

Rebekah sighed, "I know. But do you think I could pull it off?"

Hayleigh looked thoughtful, "I don't know…I've never seen you in anything that wasn't sweet."

Rebekah ran a hand through her hair, "Maybe that's the problem. I have no depth."

"You analyze yourself too much, Becca," Hayleigh observed.

Rebekah looked troubled, "I just…want to know that I have the potential to do something…more."

"There's nothing wrong with having a specialty," Hayleigh said.

"I guess…I've just started to realize how…uneventful…my life has been," Rebekah admitted.

"So you're wishing for something bad to happen?"

"No…I think I'm thinking it might be helpful if _something_ happened. Rosalyn's right about one thing. I have very limited life experience."

Hayleigh sighed, "You're grounded, Becca. You have good people who support you. You know what you believe. You can learn how to play evil, if that's what you want. You don't have to live through something horrible. I keep telling you, you've just go to go at it with no fear."

"Maybe that's the problem. I've never had to overcome something I feared. What was there to be afraid of in Collins?" Rebekah countered.

"Bobcats?" Hayleigh said, laughing.

"Yeah...that's pretty sad," Rebekah replied.

"You think too much," Hayleigh added, "You have to stop obsessing so much. Sometimes, you've just gotta go on your feelings. Maybe that's why you feel like you haven't done anything. You've never been impulsive."

"That's what I have you for," Rebekah smirked.

Hayleigh laughed, and there was a comfortable silence. As they finished their lunch, Rebekah considered the article she'd had sitting on her desk for two weeks now. She'd been trying to ignore it, but she couldn't resist confiding it in her best friend. She stood up and retrieved the paper, and handed it to Hayleigh.

"I haven't had a chance to tell you, but I found this," she offered.

"What is it?" Hayleigh asked.

"Another article on Rosalyn."

Hayleigh rolled her eyes, but started to read anyway, "This girl's been in the news more than anyone I've ever met."

"I was in the newspaper when I rescued that kitten, when the river flooded," Rebekah said.

"Yes…that was a riveting story," Hayleigh teased sarcastically.

Rebekah slapped her, and Hayleigh focused on what she was reading. She made it through in a few minutes and said, simply, "Wow."

"I know," Rebekah agreed, "And I thought they wouldn't let criminals into this school…"

"She's not a criminal," Hayleigh corrected, "The charges were dropped."

"Still…she shot her own father. That's crazy."

"Maybe. But you don't know what happened," Hayleigh proposed.

"You're supposed to be on my side," Rebekah argued.

"I am. I'm just saying…I feel a little bad for her," Hayleigh stated.

"Why?" Rebekah countered.

"Well…her father's dead," Hayleigh explained.

"Because she shot him!" Rebekah's voice rose, "She shot her own father!"

The moment she made the statement, the door to the room opened. Both Rebekah and Hayleigh froze. Rosalyn stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. Rebekah held her breath, not sure how much her roommate had heard. She knew the doors here weren't very effective at concealing sound. There was a very long, tense moment when no one spoke.

After what felt like an eternity, Rosalyn flung the door shut behind her with a loud slam. She looked from Rebekah to Hayleigh and asked in a low, even voice, "What are you talking about?"

Neither of them could answer. Hayleigh looked to Rebekah, who was frozen with her mouth open. She tried to come up with some sort of believable lie, but no words would come.

Rosalyn crossed to the bed where the other girls were sitting, and snatched up the papers Hayleigh had set between them. She scanned the headline of the article, and her face took on hard quality that made Rebekah afraid.

"I'm sure you must be quite proud," Rosalyn spat, "To have dug up such juicy gossip. I'm sure you can't wait to post this in the common area, or maybe photocopy it and hand it out at rehearsal."

Rebekah shook her head, "No. I wasn't going to say anything," she defended, with a touch of bitterness.

Rosalyn let out an angry laugh, "Yeah, right. So you just needed to find a way to make yourself feel more perfect?"

"I'm not perfect," Rebekah argued.

"You're disgustingly perfect," Rosalyn shot back, "You think you can dig up some dirt about me on the internet and make yourself look better? You know _nothing_ about me!"

Rebekah stood up suddenly, "Well, you know _nothing_ about me! You think you can put me down and write me off because I'm not crazy, like you!"

Rosalyn stepped into her face, "I am _not_ crazy," she growled.

"What sort of normal person shoots their father?" Rebekah yelled in return.

Rosalyn was quiet for a moment, and her eyes were a maelstrom of anger and something else very dark. Finally, she returned, "What is _normal_, Rebekah Rawlings? Is it you? Because I think I'd rather shoot _myself_ than be anything like you."

Rebekah recoiled and started to retaliate, however Hayleigh stopped her. She stood up and shouted, "Enough! I'm not in any mood to watch the two of you kill each other!"

Rosalyn raked her eyes over Hayleigh, "And what are you, Rebekah's little sister? How very…darling," she spat.

Hayleigh's eyes narrowed and, in spite of her stature, she challenged Rosalyn, "Oh, I'm sorry, we haven't met. I'm Hayleigh. I dance professionally. And I understand that you're a cheap whore."

Rosalyn took a step back, and for a moment, Rebekah was very afraid that there was going to be some sort of fight. Hayleigh was certainly not one to hold back her feelings. However, Rosalyn did not move. Her eyes flashed, and her hands began to tremble. She crumpled the paper she held and launched it past Rebekah. Then, she turned and fled the room without another word.

* * *

The following evening, Rosalyn still had not returned. Rebekah had no idea where she'd gone, and a part of her wondered if she would be coming back at all. It wouldn't be at all surprising if she decided to take up with one of the guys she barely knew. She had every right to stay off campus, if she wanted. However, Rebekah also feared that Rosalyn would return, and that the second half of the semester would be a special kind of hell.

She was a touch angry with herself, for diving into Rosalyn's business at all. She should have just gone on about her life and left well-enough alone. Some people were just better off being ignored. However, Rebekah was also a bit remorseful, because once her anger had cooled, she felt bad for bringing up Rosalyn's tragedy in such a hateful way. Still, if her roommate was really upset about any of it, she could have cried and perhaps garnered some sympathy. She didn't have to be so vengefully mean all the time. It was hard to feel bad for someone who was so thoroughly nasty.

Rebekah sighed and checked the clock. It was nearly eight-thirty, and she was barely a page into the reading she was supposed to be doing. She had an exam in the morning for her required science class. She'd taken geology, like most of the other theater students. They were all required to have one science credit, and geology was considered to be the easy way to fulfill it. Therefore, the lecture hall was typically filled with a handful of freshmen science majors, and a large number of senior arts students.

Tonight, Rebekah was supposed to be reading about volcanic activity. It was about the least interesting thing she could think of, at the moment. She tried to take in the unusual terminology, and commit it to memory. She tried to wrap her mind around lava domes, cryptodomes, and pyroclastics. She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the paragraph in front of her.

_A caldera is a cauldron-like volcanic feature formed by the collapse of land following a violent eruption. The word comes from the Spanish, 'caldera', meaning 'cooking pot'. They can be deceptive, as the initial collapse seems to indicate the destruction of the volcano. However, the volcano is, in fact, still present. Calderas are especially dangerous, because large amounts of pressure can build up and result in devastating explosions, sometimes affecting hundreds of thousands of miles. One of the most famous is the Yellowstone Caldera, which includes Yellowstone National Park. The quiet beauty of the park conceals the very real, active danger beneath…_

Rebekah stopped reading then, and let her thoughts wander. She was quite sensitive in regards to the symbolism of ordinary things. It was one of the things that made her excellent at character analysis, even if it didn't always translate on stage. She couldn't help thinking of Rosalyn, with her beautiful exterior that failed to hint at the churning storm underneath. Rebekah wondered what lurked beneath the caldera. She wondered what horrors were hidden inside and waiting to explode. She had an overwhelming feeling that the initial eruption she'd read about in the newspaper was not the end of Rosalyn's story. Whatever had happened when she was fourteen had not extinguished the fire. And Rebekah did not want to be anywhere close when she finally exploded.


	8. Chapter 8: Landon

**Chapter 8: Landon**

The next four weeks were spent in interminable silence. Rosalyn eventually returned after a three-day absence, and absolutely refused to speak to Rebekah. She would leave the room promptly any time their paths crossed, and she made a point to be gone just as Rebekah was waking up. Even the snide and degrading comments stopped. Now, in rehearsals, Rosalyn simply sang her part and occasionally fixed Rebekah with a hard glare.

Rebekah knew she should probably be glad for the silence. However, as the weeks passed, Rosalyn's behavior became more and more erratic. She often disappeared for days at a time, and returned looking worn and tired. It was frightening and worrisome, and Rebekah had no idea if she should be scared or concerned. She often found herself wishing desperately for graduation. The year had been long and trying, and she wanted to smile, receive her degree, and get some distance. She felt an overwhelming desire to clear her head and find a new perspective.

Rebekah had never imagined that she'd be less confident when she graduated than when she began university. However, she felt like a puzzle from which all the pieces had been scattered across the floor. There were days she felt a sense of clarity, when rehearsals were going well and her confidence was boosted. Then, just as quickly, she would descend into doubt and confusion.

Therefore, when the opening of _Jekyll and Hyde_ finally arrived, Rebekah was a ball of nerves. She found herself in the dressing room that night, putting the last touches on her makeup and running her lines through her head. She knew what she was doing, and she was not afraid of the stage. She knew that she would get through the show and that she was solid on her vocals. She sighed heavily, though, because it still didn't feel like enough.

Rebekah just wanted to communicate something…more. She wanted to be remembered, to touch someone in that personal way that they wouldn't forget. In spite of herself, she wanted to touch an audience the way Rosalyn could. It seemed so ridiculously unfair, that such a horrible person would be such a gifted performer. But somehow, Rosalyn could make even Rebekah forget how awful she was. She'd done it in rehearsal, and Rebekah was certain that her roommate would be in top form tonight.

So Rebekah tried to pull her focus and concentrate. At five minutes to curtain, she took a deep breath and took her place backstage. It was time, and there was no putting it off. This was her last big run before graduation, and she had to make the most of it, nerves or not. As the low thrum of the music began, she closed her eyes and tried to find Emma within her. She tried to summon the loyalty and the confusion, and the deep, abiding love that could overlook someone's greatest flaws. Then the curtain was up, and the proving ground was before her. It was time.

* * *

After the show, Landon, Emma and a few others insisted on taking Rebekah out to celebrate. They praised her performance and insisted on buying her a late dinner at a local restaurant. As they all worked their way through the food and a few drinks, Rebekah felt quite loved. It was a bit of a relief to have the opening behind her, and she appreciated having such good friends. Still, when the group broke up to go home, she couldn't shake the abiding feeling of inadequacy.

After the show, the director had praised both women for their performances. However, when he spoke to Rosalyn, there was a hint of awe in his voice. There was a greater respect. Also, when Rebekah left the theater, she had noticed that a few die-hard theater fans had greeted Rosalyn at the stage door. They were raving about the show, and one of the awestruck women had said, "I just wanted to hug you…"

Surprisingly, Rosalyn had let her. They had smiled at Rebekah and nodded their general appreciation. Yet it was Rosalyn who moved them. Rebekah tried to convince herself that it was just the roles into which they'd been cast. Lucy seemed to garner more sympathy. She was, after all, a very lonely character. However, it was Emma who loses the man she's always loved. It was Emma who tries to stand by him while he destroys his life. Emma stands, devastated, after he dies.

Rebekah sighed heavily and pulled herself out of the internal struggle. She was certainly not going to resolve it tonight. Landon was offering to take her home, and the offer was very appealing.

She smiled weakly at him and asked, "Are you sure? I've got my car…"

"We'll bring you back up tomorrow for the matinee. It's late, and you seem a little…foggy," Landon offered.

"That's a long trip for you," Rebekah tried to argue.

"It's fine. I'd love to see the show again, if you've got a ticket."

Rebekah hesitated for a moment, and then said, "All right, I accept. And thank you."

They made the drive back to school mostly in silence, and Rebekah watched the stars above the lush, thick rows of trees beside the highway. There were only a handful of small towns between Durham and Greensboro, and the night was rich and dark. In spite of herself, she began to wonder if Rosalyn had any real friends with which to celebrate tonight, or if perhaps she had her own ideas for fun. Rebekah also wondered if Rosalyn would be returning to their room as well. Tonight, the idea of having to interact with her roommate threatened to give her a headache. She wasn't sure if Rosalyn was one to gloat openly, but Rebekah didn't really want to find out.

After a moment, she asked, "Landon?"

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Do you think I could crash at your place tonight?"

Landon and his sister lived in a small, off-campus apartment. It was a luxury afforded by their parents, and Landon's part-time job.

"Sure, if you don't mind the couch," he answered.

"No, it's fine. I just…I'd like to be around friends," Rebekah whispered.

Landon said no more, and steered them towards the apartment. When they arrived, Emma yawned and pulled herself out of a half-sleep. She smiled at Rebekah and told her once again how much she'd enjoyed the show.

"I hope you won't hate me, if I go to sleep," Emma said as they made their way inside.

"No…of course not. And I hope you won't mind if I sleep on your couch," Rebekah replied.

Emma smiled sleepily and, once inside the door, stumbled back to her room. She tossed Rebekah some pajamas and said goodnight once more. Then, she pushed her door shut and left Rebekah and Landon in the tiny living room. Rebekah flopped onto the couch, having been here many times before.

"So," Landon began, "What's up? You act like you didn't just open a professional show, which was amazing."

Rebekah smiled, "Thanks, really," she sighed, "I think I'm just…unsatisfied."

"Why? You really were wonderful."

"Again, thanks. But I just…I feel like I could've been...more," Rebekah admitted.

"More? You blew away actors twice your age! Becca, you are better than most anyone in this area. That's why they cast you!" Landon argued.

"Maybe…but, I'm not Rosalyn."

Landon looked at her strangely, "You're not a sadistic, psycho-whore?"

"You promised not to say anything about what I told you!" Rebekah caught him.

"I didn't. Not even to Emma," Landon defended.

Rebekah relaxed again, "That's not what I meant, though. I just…I want to…to be incredible. I want people to look at me with that…awe…"

Landon cocked his head, "Are you suffering from an external locus of identity?"

Rebekah smiled, "Don't use the psychology jargon on me."

"I might as well use it for something. If I don't keep it fresh, I'm pretty sure I might flunk the exam."

Rebekah chuckled, and then looked thoughtful. She finally said, "Other than Hayleigh, you've been my best friend here. We've been in almost every show together, including that ridiculous thing about talking rocks. So, tell me…do you think I'll ever be what Rosalyn is? Do you think I'll ever be that…mesmerizing?"

Landon took a breath and came to sit beside her on the couch. He took her hand in a friendly way and said, slowly, "Rebekah…you already are. You are absolutely mesmerizing. You are beautiful and your voice is beyond words. It's pure and always flawless. You just…hold back. You keep a little bit in, when you perform. I think it's because you're afraid. And you really shouldn't be afraid."

Rebekah was touched, at how sweet and sincere he sounded.

After a moment, he asked, "Am I really your best friend? I thought that was a girl thing…"

Rebekah smiled, "Second best, but yeah. I mean, we've only hung out every day since freshman year…"

"All right. I'll accept second best," Landon teased.

The room was very quiet, very still, and Rebekah realized he was staring at her intently. He was very close to her, and his eyes were filled with something she hadn't seen before. And suddenly, there it was. With those piercing, blue eyes, Landon was looking at her the way she'd been waiting for someone to look at her for so long. He was in awe of her. Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him, and he didn't pull away.

After a moment, when she finally drew back, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," she whispered, confused.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," he said quietly.

"No," Rebekah said, a bit forcefully, and she was surprised at herself. She had no idea what she was doing, but she didn't want to lose this feeling. She wanted so badly to be appreciated, and she wanted to understand what it meant to be fueled by the type of passion about which she sang. She didn't want to be afraid, and this was what she feared most.

Rebekah wanted to go with her feelings, for once. She didn't want to analyze and pick apart her choices. She just wanted to feel. She also feared, deep down, that Rosalyn had been right. There would always be something missing, until she knew what love was. And Landon was looking at her in a way no one had ever looked at her.

So she kissed him again, and then pulled him up from the couch. He looked confused, as she led him down the hall to his bedroom. She stopped in the doorway, and said nothing. Rebekah just looked at him, her expression begging that he not ask too many questions. She kissed him again, and she could tell it was hard for him to pull away.

"Becca," he whispered, "You're my friend. This might sound really pathetic, but I care about you. I don't want…"

"Exactly," she whispered in return, "You're my friend. I trust you. I know you. Don't ruin it, by making me explain. Just…make love to me."

Landon looked into her eyes, and she kissed him again. This time, when he pulled back, he said, "You know…I have always thought you were beautiful. I had a crush on you, when I first met you. I really thought I was over it…"

"And you never told me?"

"You had Hayleigh, and your schoolwork. You didn't need me, or anyone."

"I need you now…" she breathed.

And there no more words after that. Rebekah gave in and let him take the lead. She blushed and trembled when her clothes were shed and they lay naked together. She was amazed that her body responded when he trailed his mouth over her skin and kissed her tenderly. Her breath caught when he very carefully pressed himself inside of her and then looked into her eyes to calm her fear.

Rebekah felt her pulse race harder and her skin tingle as he gently moved against her. It was different than she expected. She'd always believed her virginity would be gone in a moment, when she finally gave it up. Instead, this felt more like a careful unraveling. She was slowly giving a piece of herself away, and at the same time discovering so many rich, new layers of experience. It was, perhaps, more of a trade then a loss.

Even being so very virginal, Rebekah could understand the rhythms of her own body. Landon looked into her eyes and tried to read what she was feeling, and she smiled. She let herself relax in the arms of someone she knew so well, and she was surprised at the power of climax. It probably wasn't earth-shattering, although she had no frame of reference. The world did not stand still. She wasn't breathless and screaming, as she'd seen in so many movies. However, it was more than she expected. Her whole body felt very alive, very sensitive, and she became very aware of the heat between their two bodies. She was one with another person and, for the first time, Rebekah understood what that meant.

Landon held her for a long time, and said nothing. He arranged their bodies so they were lying next to one another, and he covered both of them with a blanket. Neither one spoke, and there was just the sound of their even breathing.

After some time, Rebekah finally asked into the darkness, "Have you been with a lot of girls?"

"Not really," Landon answered quietly.

"How many?" Rebekah asked carefully.

There was a pause, "Does it matter?"

Rebekah thought for a minute, "I don't know. The way you looked at me, in there. It just seemed so…real. Was it really me? Or have you looked at a lot of girls like that?"

There was a long silence, and Rebekah was a bit afraid. Finally, Landon answered, "There was just Kathryn, from Sophomore year. And a couple big mistakes from last year."

"So…" Rebekah struggled, "Was I any good?"

Landon sat up a little and looked at her, shocked. After a moment, he said, "I told you, over and over. You are amazing."

And then he kissed her again, and Rebekah drank it in. She took the praise and the rushing wonderful feeling it gave her. It might've been selfish, and it might've been wrong, but she was amazing. For the night, it was she who captivated Landon and made him gaze at her with star struck eyes. And it was wonderful, to be amazing.

* * *

The following morning, Rebekah woke up just after dawn, trying to remember where she was. Slowly, she made sense of the shapes around her, and she remembered she was not alone. The night before came back in waves of memory, as individual moments of sensation, rather than one, complete event. She let it wash over her, and she finally turned to look at Landon, who was deeply asleep.

Rebekah wasn't sure how she felt. Her emotions churned, and she couldn't be sure if there was regret or gratitude. Mostly, in the dim light, there was just resolution. It was done, and it hadn't been a bad experience.

She slipped from the bed quietly and retrieved her clothes from where she'd dropped them on the floor. She crept into the bathroom and tried to make herself somewhat presentable. Rebekah pulled on her disheveled clothing and borrowed a comb to try to tame her wild curls. Thankfully, she had an elastic with her, and she pulled her mane of hair back tightly until she could give it some real attention. Then, she looked in the mirror.

Somehow, she expected to look different. However, it was the same Rebekah that stared back at her. It was both comforting and unsettling. Rebekah sighed and slipped quietly back out into the bedroom. Then, she went to the door and carefully opened it, trying not to make a sound. In the hall, she started to pull the door shut behind her. Just then, Emma came out of her room, heading towards the hall closet. She stopped suddenly, when he saw Rebekah.

Neither of them spoke, but Emma's eyes were wide with questions. Rebekah turned away, though, and moved down the hallway toward the living room. She heard Emma's door click shut once again, and Rebekah slid open the door to the tiny patio just off the apartment. She retrieved a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around herself, as she sat in one of the patio chairs. Then, she stared at the brightening sky for some time.

Rebekah could feel a maelstrom of feeling welling up inside of her, and she was trying to hold onto this sense of calm as long as it would last. She wanted to hold off answering the questions, both from Emma and from herself. Rebekah wanted to keep remembering how Landon had looked at her, and how uniquely significant she had felt. She wanted that to keep being enough, for right now.

After some time, Emma appeared in the doorway behind her. Her dark hair was damp and twisted on top of her head, and her bright eyes were cautiously curious. She took the seat next to Rebekah and said, "I must have missed a lot, last night."

"Not too much," Rebekah whispered.

Emma stared at her, "Come on, Becca. You didn't wear pajamas last night, and you're coming out of my brother's room at seven in the morning."

There was a long silence before Rebekah asked, "Are you mad at me?"

Emma shook her head, "No, I'm just…confused."

"I can't really explain it, Em. I just…" she struggled with words, "Do you think you could take me home? I really need to think."

"I guess, but…" Emma looked back toward the door.

"Tell Landon I'm not angry, and to call me when he wakes up," Rebekah finished.

Emma nodded, and Rebekah followed her back to the car. They drove in silence once again, and Rebekah was certain her friend must be thinking all sorts of things. Still, she wasn't ready to explain or analyze. Rebekah just wanted to be alone.

She thanked Emma and clutched her purse as the car drove away. Then, Rebekah pulled open the door to her building and climbed the stairs to her room in the dormitory. It was late enough that the building was open for the day, so there no questions about her arrival. However no one was awake yet. She walked quietly down the hallway and carefully put the key in the door. Rebekah slipped inside, trying not to wake Rosalyn, who was asleep in her bed. It made her feel a bit better, to know that she had, in fact, avoided having to interact with her roommate last night. Then, she headed straight for the shower.

Under the hot, steaming water, Rebekah tried to find some clarity. She tried to decide if she'd made a good choice, or a horrible mistake. She tried to understand exactly why she'd done what she'd done, and if it would really make any difference. Should it matter? Did it change her at all? She had no real answers, and after several minutes, she realized she'd fallen into analyzation again. It was her greatest flaw, trying to understand everything. She tried to make everything fall into a neat, logical pattern, and clearly some things simply weren't destined to do so.

Rebekah finally turned off the water and wrapped her hair in a towel. She pulled on some sweats and took some time running curl refiner through her hair. It would need to be decent, for both shows that day. Finally, she emerged from the bathroom. Rosalyn was sitting up in her bed, reading. She fixed Rebekah with curious stare.

After a moment, Rosalyn asked, "Where were you last night?"

Rebekah was shocked, "Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Well," Rosalyn shrugged, "I just thought maybe, this morning, we have more in common than we did yesterday."

Rebekah fixed her roommate with an icy glare, "You and I have _nothing_ in common."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "You don't have to be obnoxious."

Rebekah scoffed, "Rosalyn, you haven't spoken to me in over a month. You don't even speak to me when we're backstage, breathing on each other. You can't just decide that, this morning, we're going to chat. Maybe you didn't realize that, with your complete lack of social skills. Now, you're informed."

Rosalyn stared back, her expression somewhere between angry and offended. She looked as though she might say something more, but Rebekah's phone rang and she lost the chance. Rebekah picked it up and looked at the screen, and then she breezed out the door without another glance.

In the hallway, she answered the phone quickly. One the other end of the line, Landon said, "Becca?"

She took a breath, "Landon."

"Are you mad at me?" he asked softly.

"No. I told Emma to tell you that…"

"I know, but you left. I just thought…" he sounded confused.

"I know," Rebekah answered, "It was probably wrong of me. I just…needed to think. But I'm not angry."

"I guess that's understandable," Landon conceded.

Rebekah hesitated, and then asked, "Will you still drive me into Durham today?"

"Of course I will, Becca. I'm not…I'm not…like one of those guys who sleeps around and doesn't care…"

Rebekah smiled in spite of herself, "I guess I knew that. I suppose that's why…I mean…that's the reason I…"

"What?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say," Rebekah sighed.

"It's okay," Landon said, "I'll come get you in an hour or so, so you won't be late"

"Thanks," Rebekah whispered as she hung up the phone.

She went down to the lobby then, deciding she'd rather wait there than sit in her room for an hour with Rosalyn staring her down. It was disgusting, that her roommate was suddenly curious about Rebekah's whereabouts. She thought it might have something to do with Rosalyn trying to make herself feel better, about being such a whore.

_I'll never be like that. This does not make me like her,_ Rebekah shuddered.

She sat on one of the questionable couches in the lobby and dug a book out of her shoulder bag. She set to reading, appreciating that it was too early on a Saturday for most of the students to be up. In an hour, Landon arrived as he'd said, and she climbed into the car next to him. He smiled at her, and they made the drive into Durham without saying much.

Once they arrived, he insisted on buying her lunch, and Rebekah made sure he had her extra ticket for the show that day. They talked a bit about regular things, like exams and her final performance with the dance program before she would graduate. Rebekah appreciated that he was very much still her friend, but she sensed there was something unspoken beneath his casual attitude. She knew there was much she wasn't saying, as well. She pushed it off, though, and said goodbye so that she could prepare for the show that afternoon.

* * *

If she'd hoped that the previous night would vastly change her performance, she was disappointed. She had less energy than the previous night, and she struggled with distraction. She was thinking too much, and Rebekah fought to keep her focus until they reached the song _In His Eyes._ For the first time, she connected with what the lyrics were saying. The way Landon had looked at her was very real, very fresh in her mind, and she knew her part of the song came across differently. She was certain Rosalyn noticed it, as well, but Rebekah didn't care. When the curtain fell, she was proud of herself. If only in that one song, she'd communicated something real. It was a small victory, but she celebrated anyway.

After she'd changed her clothes and taken off the layers of stage makeup, Rebekah made her way out the back door. She hoped to find a quick dinner before the evening show. When she emerged into the afternoon sunlight, Landon was waiting for her, just outside the door. He wrapped her in a sudden embrace.

"You were amazing!" he gushed.

She smiled, "I'm glad you think so."

There was a pause, and then he asked, "You duet, with Rosalyn, were you…singing to me? As corny as that sounds…"

She thought for a moment, "I think, maybe…I was singing _about_ you."

Landon stared at her then, with his unforgettable eyes. Before she could react, he kissed her long and slowly on her mouth. When he pulled back, Rebekah suddenly realized what was bothering her the most.

Landon had been so worried about taking advantage of her when, in reality, it had been quite the opposite. She'd wanted an experience, and she'd used him for it. Rebekah was comfortable with him, and she trusted him not to hurt her. Still, she was too naïve to understand that he might end up wanting more. She'd acted entirely on impulse, without really knowing what she wanted. Now, standing before her, she saw that Landon was very much in love with her. Or, at least, he was quite infatuated. She had no idea what to do, because the very idea of entering into some sort of committed relationship terrified her. She would be graduating in two months, and her future was very uncertain after that point. Rebekah knew that it made no sense to launch her first real relationship now. Somehow, though, her first impulsive decision ever, had been to sleep with the one guy she knew who happened to be harboring an old crush on her.

_I am just awesome, _she berated herself.

Rebekah looked up into Landon's face, and she was afraid. His eyes were full of his feelings, and she was terrified of hurting him. She felt selfish and horrible, but somehow, she still couldn't make herself wish it had never happened. She'd used him to complete a rite of passage, and now she simply had no idea how to tell him she didn't want more. She couldn't want more, now. There was too much uncertainty, too many choices, and she only prayed he wouldn't hate her, for breaking his heart.


	9. Chapter 9: Confession

**Chapter 9: Confession**

The following week became a blur as Rebekah made her way through class and the show each night. The combination of late nights and all the driving was taking its toll. She was tired and a bit frazzled, but she forced herself to focus. She'd managed to put Landon off by claiming her schedule was overwhelming her, which was true. He seemed to understand that she had very little time for meaningful conversation during this time. Still, the show would only run ten days, and then she'd be confronted with his feelings all over again. Rebekah knew she couldn't avoid him forever. The best she could hope for is that he was merely infatuated, and that ten days time would allow some of his feelings to dissipate.

She could not, however, avoid Rosalyn. The same girl who had been ignoring her for weeks had suddenly become fascinated by Rebekah's whereabouts. She stared Rebekah down when they were in the room together, and occasionally asked snidely if Rebekah would be "spending the night out again". Rebekah couldn't imagine why anything she did was of any interest to her roommate. Rosalyn had always seemed bothered by her very presence. She held onto the idea that Rosalyn was simply trying to make herself feel better about sleeping around, and Rebekah refused to be manipulated that way. She had no intention of sharing a very personal experience with her very hateful roommate. So she focused on making it through the run of the show without falling asleep in class or blowing a performance.

By the end of the following week, she was exhausted. She fell into bed Saturday evening and slept until nearly noon on Sunday. Her body was worn down and her mind needed rest, as well. When she finally woke on Sunday morning, she felt groggy and heavy. She pulled herself up in bed and blinked at the obnoxious amount of sunlight that was coming in the window. Rosalyn was gone, but she'd clearly been kind enough to open all the blinds before leaving the room.

_Such a thoughtful roommate,_ Rebekah growled to herself.

Then, she remembered that Hayleigh was in town. She'd come up the previous night to see the show, and had stayed with some friends overnight so that she and Rebekah could have the day together. Rebekah snatched her phone from the desk and realized she had about ten text messages.

She quickly responded to Hayleigh, saying simply. _Slept late. Come now._

By the time Hayleigh was knocking on the door, Rebekah had showered, dressed, and managed to get her unruly curls tamed for the day. She greeted her best friend with a hug and said, "Let's go eat somewhere."

Hayleigh shrugged and said, "Your choice."

"But you're driving," Rebekah bartered.

"Fine. You deserve a break after this past week," Hayleigh smiled.

"It was definitely exhausting," Rebekah admitted as they made their way outside.

"So do you think you could handle it? Eight shows a week, all the time?" Hayleigh asked with a smile.

Rebekah slid into the car and answered, "I think so, if I wasn't trying to take a full load of classes at the same time. That's insanity."

"I hear you," Hayleigh agreed.

They left campus and went into Greensboro, to a little café that they used to go to together when they were roommates. It was bustling with activity, and was generally filled with an artsy crowd. The other patrons were the usual suspects, on their phones, listening to music, or working on their computers. The two girls slipped into a corner booth and ordered coffee and sandwiches. Then, they sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Rebekah took a deep breath.

She finally said, "I have to tell you something."

Hayleigh raised an eyebrow, "Are you breaking up with me?"

Rebekah laughed, "No. Not today, anyway."

"That's reassuring," Hayleigh smiled, "So what's up?"

Rebekah chewed her lip, not sure why this should make her so nervous. This was her best friend, after all. She looked down at her cup and said softly, "I slept with Landon."

There was a long moment of silence, and when Rebekah finally looked up, Hayleigh was staring at her, stunned. Finally, she asked, "Landon? Landon Schuester?"

"We only know one Landon," Rebekah whispered.

Hayleigh searched for words, and then said, "I thought he was gay…"

Rebekah looked her friend oddly, "Definitely…not…gay…"

Hayleigh still looked confused.

"Don't you remember when he dated Kathryn Baker…sophomore year?" Rebekah asked.

"Oh…yeah….right…" Hayleigh still looked shocked, "You hung out with him a lot. I remember now…"

Rebekah played with her napkin, not sure what else to say.

"When?" Hayleigh finally asked.

"Last Friday, after the first show," Rebekah admitted.

"Last Friday? And you're telling me _now_?" Hayleigh squeaked.

"I know," Rebekah sighed, "It's just been an insane week and…I wanted to talk to you in person…"

Hayleigh studied her for a long time, and then asked, "What happened to all of that, 'I'm not sleeping with anyone until I get married' stuff?"

Rebekah studied the table again, and then answered, "I don't know. It just…seemed like the right moment. I just…wanted to be impulsive…"

"That was definitely impulsive," Hayleigh shook her head.

There was another pause before Rebekah asked, "Do you think I'm a horrible person?"

Hayleigh's expression softened, "Of course not, Becca. You're my best friend and I love you. It's your choice, it always has been."

"But we promised…" Rebekah started.

Hayleigh looked thoughtful, "Maybe we didn't completely understand what we were promising…"

"Part of me thinks I should feel like a slut or something…" Rebekah mused.

"Don't you dare call yourself that!" Hayleigh argued.

There was another long silence.

"Do you think you'll keep that promise we made?" Rebekah finally asked.

Hayleigh cocked her head, "I don't know. I haven't found a guy who can keep up with me, yet."

Rebekah laughed, "That will never happen…"

Hayleigh's eyes were mischievous when she asked, "So…was it what you expected? I mean, Landon's never seemed…romantic…"

Rebekah blushed a little, "It was certainly…intense. And Landon is a good guy."

Hayleigh smiled, "So…it was worth the wait?"

Rebekah blushed further, "Um….yes. But I think…it was because…we're so comfortable together…"

"Are you in love with him?" Hayleigh asked slowly.

"No…I mean yes, I care about him…I don't know. I think I _could_ love him…" Rebekah faltered.

"But…?"

Rebekah sighed, "But I'm graduating in like two months and then we won't even live in the same state. What kind of relationship is that?"

"But you knew that…when you slept with him," Hayleigh added softly.

"I know, but I didn't think he would…that he'd ever…"

"What?" Hayleigh looked confused.

"I think he's in love with _me_," Rebekah confessed.

Hayleigh's eyes widened, "That is…unexpected…"

"I guess this is why I always thought that I would wait until I was in love and in a relationship…" Rebekah said, looking far away.

"Yeah…" Hayleigh said softly.

"I really feel like a slut," Rebekah whispered, "I mean…what kind of person sleeps with someone they don't love?"

"I told you not to say that," Hayleigh returned.

Rebekah looked troubled, "I've just…I've lived with Rosalyn for months now, and I've watched her just use guys and…"

"You are _not_ like her, Becca."

There was a long pause, "But how do I tell Landon I just can't…commit to him?"

Hayleigh just looked back at her sympathetically, because she didn't have a good answer.

* * *

The following evening, Rebekah sat in her room, trying to catch up on a paper she had due. She had several assignments on which she'd fallen behind, and she was trying to use the free evening to get them under control. She was having trouble concentrating, though, because she'd asked Landon to come by her room after dinner. She knew that to keep putting him off would start to jeopardize their friendship.

Somehow, though, she was still startled when the phone rang. She answered it, and felt her stomach twist when she heard Landon's voice. He was downstairs, and needed permission to come up to her room. Rebekah swallowed and told the girl who was manning the sign-in desk that he could come up. There was no putting this off any longer, although Rebekah was still completely unsure about what to say.

When he knocked on the door, Rebekah let him in with a tiny smile. Landon ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair and followed her to the only place to sit, which was the bed. She looked at him hesitantly, and picked at some lint on the comforter. After a minute, he reached out and touched her face. Before she could say anything, he was kissing her. It was then that Rebekah realized that he had clearly misunderstood why she'd asked him to come to her room.

She knew she should push him away, but in the moment, Rebekah felt her body flush. She melded with him until she felt her head touch her pillow. Suddenly aware that Landon was nearly on top of her, Rebekah knew she had to stop this. Everything logical within her said that even returning his kiss had been a mistake. Still, she couldn't make herself pull away. It wasn't until he started to trail kisses down her neck toward her collarbone that she placed her hands on his chest.

Rebekah pushed away just a bit and said, "Landon…stop."

He pulled back, his eyes both concerned and confused.

She struggled for words, "I…I asked you to come up here so I could talk to you. Landon I…"

"What?" he whispered.

She took a heavy breath and asked, "Why did you sleep with me?"

He looked alarmed, "Because…because you asked me to."

Rebekah studied his eyes, "Are you sure…that's the only reason?"

He sat back up then, releasing her. Rebekah sat next to him, crossing her legs as Landon studied his hands.

After a long moment, he said, "I don't know…it just seemed like that's what you really wanted, and it…felt right, I guess…"

Rebekah waited a long time before asking, "Landon…not that I know a lot about this, but…are you in love with me?"

With a hint of a teasing smile he asked in return, "If I say yes, is this going to end badly?"

"Landon…" she said, her tone serious.

He sighed and studied his hands some more. Finally, he looked at her with brooding eyes, "What if I said I am? Or that I think I could be?"

Even having guessed at his feelings, Rebekah was still shocked. She'd never been by loved by anyone other than family, and Hayleigh. No one had ever looked at her with this smoldering intensity that made her stomach do flips.

"Landon," she finally answered, "We're graduating soon, and we don't even live in the same state. I promised my mother I'd come back to Collins for the summer, unless I have some sort of incredible offer before then. And right now, I don't see that happening. How can I possibly start the first real relationship I've ever had…now?"

Landon reached up and touched her face gently, "Do you love me?"

Rebekah felt her breath catch, "I can't love you. It doesn't make any sense right now."

"Hayleigh and I have both always told you that you think too much," he returned.

She looked at him sadly, "I think this is one of the times that I have to."

Landon leaned in and kissed her breathless again. Then, he pulled back and said, "What if I said I don't care? What if I said I'll take two months, if that's all I can have with you?"

Rebekah wanted to say yes. She wanted to fall into his arms and forget the future, but she was too programmed to do the sensible thing. In spite of her recent choices, she was still terrified of letting her emotions take control.

"No," she said softly, "If I let myself love you, I'll just end up with a broken heart, and I'm certainly not ready for that, either."

Landon brushed some of her wild, flyaway hair out of her face, "There are some things in life we're never ready for, Becca. Someday, you're going to have to let yourself just…feel."

She could think of no immediate answer, and he captured her lips with his again. Being with him felt so warm and right, and so unlike anything she'd ever imagined. Rebekah told herself to pull away and push him out of her room. Her mind screamed at her to stop. Her body refused to listen, though. The one night she'd spent with him was still so fresh in her mind, and she'd awoken something within herself that simply _wanted_.

She let Landon tangle his hands in her rippling hair, and didn't resist as he pressed her back against her pillows once again. He shifted his weight, so he had better access to her neck, and he worked his way down to the curve of her breast with his kisses. Then, he returned to her mouth and ran his hands over her trembling body.

Rebekah knew she was crossing the line where she would be able stop this. She'd tasted pleasure, and being with Landon felt so easy, so simple, and so comfortable. She was losing the will to resist and drowning in the aching warmth of another long, lingering kiss, when the door to her room clicked open. It took her a moment to realize what had happened. When she pulled away and looked over Landon's shoulder, she saw Rosalyn standing just inside the doorway.

_Fantastic,_ was her only thought.

Landon pulled away and sat up, turning to see the dark haired girl staring at both of them.

"Clearly I've interrupted something," Rosalyn said dryly.

"Clearly," Rebekah said with a sigh.

Rosalyn, in her typically obnoxious way, made no move to leave. She shut the door behind herself and crossed to her side of the room. Rebekah grit her teeth, unable to believe that her roommate was so very insensitive.

After a long moment, Rebekah said, "Rosalyn…maybe you could give us a few minutes?"

Rosalyn turned and raised an eyebrow, "Why? Are you really having sex?"

Rebekah flushed and looked down on the bed. Landon cleared his throat. No one spoke for a long time.

Finally, Rebekah looked at Landon and said, "Maybe you should just go. It's probably better…"

His eyes were sad, but he nodded. Before he stood leave, he said, "I didn't know I felt this strongly, Becca. I thought I was over whatever crush I had on you. But you're my best friend. We've always had this connection. Can you really just walk away from this? Just…think about it…"

He kissed her softly on the cheek and left without another word. Rebekah sat there for a few minutes, her emotions reeling. Suddenly, to her own surprise, she felt tears prick her eyes. She bolted for the bathroom before Rosalyn could see her crying. She shut the door and locked herself in. Then, Rebekah sat on the edge of the tub and sobbed. Her emotions felt like they were wound into a painful knot, both choking and terrifying her. She had no idea what she wanted, or what she should want. She'd finally acted on impulse, for the first time, and she'd managed to open up a huge, messy, metaphorical can of worms.

Rebekah wanted to love Landon. She knew it would be incredibly easy, but she also wanted to run in the other direction. She didn't want to jeopardize all the dreams she and Hayleigh had spent hours planning together. She'd been waiting for this graduation day her whole life. Now, though, she had no idea if she was capable of seeing any of it through. She wanted Landon, and then she didn't. She wanted more of the thrill she'd felt performing professionally the past week. However, another part of her wanted to run back home and not take the risk of rejection over and over again. She was torn and confused, and her tears came in heavy sobs as she released the stress of it all.

She sat there for a long time, gasping and wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Finally, she forced herself to get up and splash some cool water on her face. Rebekah knew she couldn't very well stay locked in the bathroom all night. She dried her face with a towel and took a shaking breath. She was no less confused, but she felt a little better.

_I suppose it was the right thing, that Rosalyn came home_, Rebekah told herself, _I don't need to make this situation with Landon any worse..._

When she finally came out of the bathroom, her roommate eyed her curiously. Rosalyn was on her phone, speaking Spanish softly in the lisping, rolling dialect of mainland Spain. Rebekah was shocked for a moment, to learn that her roommate was bilingual. Then, she shook her head, adding this to long list of things any normal roommate would have told her about in the first week they'd lived together.

When she finally hung up the phone, Rosalyn said flatly, "My mother doesn't speak much English."

Rebekah nodded, and then tried to pick up her schoolwork again. She was quickly distracted by Rosalyn's very obvious staring, however.

"What?" Rebekah finally asked.

"Are you really sleeping with that guy?" Rosalyn asked.

Rebekah reeled, "You have no idea how incredibly inappropriate that question is."

Rosalyn shrugged, "Are you?"

"I know you well enough to know there's no right answer here. If I say yes, I'm a slut. If I say no, I'm a crazy virgin. Just leave me alone."

"Well, if you've stayed a virgin this long, then why _that _guy? Why now?" Rosalyn plowed ahead.

Rebekah sighed, "Once again, this is absolutely none of your business."

"We do live together."

"As if that's made one bit of difference in the way you behave," Rebekah snapped.

Rosalyn glared, "I haven't brought home any more _psycho rapists_, as you said."

Rebekah had to admit, that much was true, "So," she asked, "what do you want in return? A confession or something?"

"I'm just trying to understand you," Rosalyn answered.

Rebekah laughed bitterly, "I've been trying to understand _you_ since the day you moved in here! Rosalyn, you might be the craziest person I've ever met!" Rebekah shot back without thinking.

"Crazy?" Rosalyn asked sharply.

"You know what, I'm done trying to avoid the issue and play nice! You are crazy! You have no social skills, you're rude, you're hateful, and you clearly have some deep-rooted problems! And I'm not interested in understanding them! I have my own life to sort out! So, we are done! You cannot trash my performance and call me names, and then start asking questions about my personal life! We are done talking! I plan to get through these next few weeks, and then never see you again! And now, since I can't even study in peace, I'm going down the hall!" Rebekah screamed.

She wasn't generally a loud person, but when Rebekah reached the end of her patience, she had a tendency to explode. It was not usually in a direct, specifically malicious way, but she just let her temper fly. This was one of those moments, and she gathered up her books and notebooks, and stomped from the room, slamming the door hard behind herself.

She would eventually calm down, but she'd meant what she said. She was done with Rosalyn. Rebekah couldn't draw up even an ounce of sympathy for the girl anymore, and she had her own problems to sort out. Rosalyn was a mystery that would go unsolved, and her past, however difficult, would be someone else's burden. Rebekah had her own life to live, and she had precious little time to decide how to live it.

* * *

Rebekah told Landon the following day that their relationship would have to remain platonic. She knew he could see the struggle within her, but he was kind-hearted enough to not to make the choice harder. Still, it was unavoidable that their friendship became a bit strained, and that was the thing that pained Rebekah the most. Over the next few weeks, she felt as though she'd lost two things, both her potential lover and one of her best friends. Still, she stuck to her decision. She fought the tears back and plowed onward.

In spite of their argument, Rosalyn still stared her down regularly. Rebekah knew she was burning for answers, or maybe just gossip. It was a strange, absurd way to behave, but it wasn't surprising. At times, Rosalyn studied Rebekah so intensely, that Rebekah imagined she was casting some sort of spell, as revenge. If she'd ever thought anyone capable of it, she thought Rosalyn might be. It was a ridiculous idea, but Rosalyn was simply that crazy. Rebekah laughed to herself about it sometimes, imagining her roommate in a strange, pointed hat and whispering curses over a book a spells.

_She's not a witch, _Rebekah would tell herself, _she a disturbed person who you will be done with in just a few weeks._

She kept her attention on her studies and before she realized it completely, graduation was upon her. Rebekah smiled, made the ceremonial walk, and hugged her mother as she cried over her grown daughter. She hugged Hayleigh and squealed as they talked about how their futures were both really beginning now. She saw the happy gleam in her father's eyes, and she hugged Landon and tried not to see the torment in his.

And then finally, Rebekah packed up her things and vacated room two-forty-three in Caplin Hall. She left Rosalyn still packing, and didn't say a word. She breathed a sigh of both relief and uncertainty, and headed back to Collins as she'd promised her mother. Summer was taking its hold, and Rebekah went home to face a future that was, at the moment, seen through a glass, quite darkly.


	10. Chapter 10: Enough

**Chapter 10: Enough**

Rebekah had only been back in Collins about two weeks, when she was offered a position directing a summer, high school workshop performance at the local community college. It was very low budget and slim on talent, but it gave her something to do. It was to be a short run of the show _Oklahoma_, which Rebekah generally found to be quite tedious. Still, she gave it her best and tried to work with the faltering, pitchy tenor who'd been cast in the male lead.

Hayleigh was teaching at a summer dance program in Atlanta, and Rebekah was more than grateful to have her just an hour and a half away. They met regularly for dinner, and the occasional weekend trip. Each time, Hayleigh asked the same questions, and usually got the same answers.

So neither one was surprised when Hayleigh greeted Rebekah one Friday night in June with, "Have you decided to get out of Collins yet?"

Rebekah sighed, "I have to finish the play, Hayleigh."

"I know, but you only have a few more weeks…"

"I drove down here for a fun weekend. You know I don't have any answers," Rebekah replied.

"Fine," Hayleigh shut the front door of her apartment and led the way to the sofa, "but I will _not_ let you spend your life directing mediocre shows in our tiny hometown. You're better than that."

Rebekah sighed, "You love Collins. Don't trash home like that."

"You're right, I do love home. There's nothing wrong with home. But we both know you want more than what it has to offer, and that's ok."

"Do I?" Rebekah asked softly.

Hayleigh took her hands, "Becca, if it kills me, you're going to stop doing this. No one can convince you that you can do more, but yourself. Not even me."

Rebekah looked far away, "I'm not even sure I can convince myself…"

"I won't give up on you, Becca," Hayleigh said vehemently, "I won't let you live a miserable life that's full of regret."

Rebekah tried to smile, because she was beginning to think misery from perpetual fear might be her lot. She left that unsaid, however, and tried to make Hayleigh change the subject. She enjoyed these times with her best friend, but she was tired, restless, and probably not the most enjoyable company. Still, she was grateful for a best friend who tolerated her.

* * *

Back at home, she also cherished a mother who loved her enough to want her to be happy. Gayle often studied Rebekah at the dinner table, asking politely how the play was going. She would inquire as to whether her daughter had any permanent plans beyond this summer, and then reassure Rebekah of how much she loved having her home. It was difficult, Rebekah knew, for her mother to encourage her to pursue her career. She knew that Gayle would be happy to have her stay in Collins and teach for forty years. She probably secretly hoped for it, but she also knew that Rebekah would never be truly happy with that. Yet somehow, even her mother's blessing couldn't make Rebekah take the leap and try to become what she'd always dreamed of becoming. She was stuck in some sort of comfortable, circular trap of self-doubt and logical inability to take the risks it required to do what she loved.

Rebekah was frustrated, wound into a knot of confusion, and sitting on the couch eating potato chips one July afternoon, when the doorbell rang. With both of her parents at work, there was no one to answer if she pretended not to hear it. So Rebekah stood, bushed off her wrinkled pajama pants and t-shirt, and shuffled to the door. She pulled it open, and her eyes widened when she saw Landon. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

"It's good to see you, too," he finally teased.

"What…how did you? I mean…I've never told you where I…" she stuttered.

Landon chuckled, "It's a small town, Becca. You've told me about a million times where you're from."

"Oh," was all she said.

"Can I come in the house?"

Rebekah shook herself, "Sure. I'm sorry, I'm just…surprised."

"I assumed you would be."

Rebekah offered him a seat on the couch, "So…why did you drive all the way out here?" she asked.

Landon, in his typically impulsive way, leaned in and kissed her. Rebekah reeled at how a few months had done nothing to dampen her feelings for him. When he finally pulled back and looked at her, she asked, "You came all the way here to do that?"

"No," he said, serious, "I came here to tell you I love you. I'm not just crushing on you. I don't just think you're pretty. I love you. You're my best friend and you know everything about me. Making love to you…it was nothing like anyone else I've been with. It just…made sense."

Rebekah started to talk, but he silenced her.

"I love you, and I can't sit back and watch you stay in this tiny town and do nothing with the ridiculous amount of talent you've been given. You have to go for it, now. You'll ruin both our lives if you don't. Because I intend to be with you. Even if you have to travel and leave me behind for a while. Even if I have to follow you around like some sort of sad puppy. Even if we have to live in a box. You made one impulsive decision last March, and it was the most wonderfully right thing I've ever experienced. If you need a reason to do what you love, let it be me. I believe in you. And if you fall, you'll never fall farther than me."

Rebekah sat there, opened-mouthed and speechless, for some time. She studied Landon, with his dark, disheveled hair and his piercing eyes. He was just barely taller than her, and he didn't have a physique that would turn heads. Still, he loved her.

"Did Hayleigh call you?" she finally asked.

Landon smiled, "Does it matter? She loves you, too."

Rebekah was very still for several minutes, warring with all the demons inside herself. Then, she pulled Landon into another kiss, and she felt her future change. She kissed him until there were no words, and then she took him upstairs and made love to him in spite of all her reservations. In her room where she'd been a child, she left childhood behind and refused to look back again. She clung to Landon and drew the strength to forge her own path, to be what some would say was impossible. For the first time in her life, Rebekah was okay with not knowing. She couldn't say what would happen tomorrow, except that Landon would be there. That was what she needed, and that was enough.


	11. Chapter 11: Foolish Heart

**Chapter 11: Foolish Heart**

_Present Day, Atlanta_

In the years since Rebekah had finally left Collins, she'd had her share of disappointment. She'd been turned away, rejected, and had to suffer the scathing comments of vain and selfish performers. She'd traveled and moved her things more times than she could even remember. It was as hard as it was gratifying. Still, she'd done it. She'd jumped off the end, and not looked back. Slow, she'd gained some respect, been cast in better parts. The months had become years, and she'd found herself changed. She was stronger, harder, and more resolved to finish what she started. She was less afraid, because she'd learned that rejection was not the worst thing in the life.

It had all given her the courage to get to this moment. She had auditioned for this show on a wing and a prayer, but with the knowledge that she would gain nothing from doing nothing. It was a lesson Hayleigh and Landon had screamed at her until she'd had the courage to listen. And now here she was, embarking on one of the biggest adventures of her career, and she'd somehow come full circle. Because here was Rosalyn, also.

As their rehearsal continued, Rebekah kept her focus on Rosalyn as the two women worked their way through the fast-paced duet, _What is This Feeling?_ Rebekah had studied the music, and she felt confident in her part. Still, Rosalyn had not lost her natural inclination to try to take the stage. Her voice had only grown stronger, and more mature, in six years. However, Rebekah was not the timid, fearful student she'd once been. Her performance was clear and strong, and she took the high soprano line and managed to have a little fun with it as well. It was easy to sing a song about how much she hated Rosalyn, and she was sure enough of herself to be able to laugh while doing it. They worked their way through some rough blocking, and ended the song staring at each other, inches apart. Rebekah looked at Rosalyn intensely, trying to communicate that, this time, she did not intend to back down.

Rosalyn turned away first, and Rebekah smiled. The song had felt good, and she thought it was a decent first run. Some of her trepidation about working with Rosalyn faded, as they continued through the rehearsal without speaking. After another pass, the director nodded his approval, and encouraged them to be a little more creative with how they chose to make fun of one another. That, Rebekah decided, would be easy. Rosalyn was not nearly as gangly and unusual-looking as Elphaba, but she was certainly as self-righteous and annoying. Playing this portion of the show would come quite naturally, she decided.

They turned their attention next to Rebekah's solo in _Popular. _It was a very physical song, but Rebekah had a strong dance background from which to draw. That made leaping and flailing around a bit easier.

All seemed to be going well, and neither woman faltered until they began to sing through _For Good._ Rebekah knew that it looked forced when they took each other's hands and sang about how much they meant to one another. The director was clearly not satisfied, but he attributed the awkwardness to first-day uncertainty.

When they finished, it was nearly noon, and Jonathan gave them a break for lunch. They would work on the massive duet for _Defying Gravity _afterward. Then, he would see Rosalyn for her solo vocal rehearsal, and Rebekah had some choreography to learn with the dance captain.

Once she was dismissed, Rebekah quickly gathered her purse and headed out the stage door. She wanted to make the most of the time she had to get something to eat. Her days would be long from now on, and she would have to grab time to relax when she could. Right outside the theater, Rebekah found Landon waiting for her. He was leaning against the railing that led to the stage door, and he smiled when she emerged into the sunshine. She went to him and fell into his embrace.

"Were you amazing?" he asked lightly.

"I was brilliant," Rebekah teased.

Landon smiled, and she was so very glad he'd decided to come with her. He still melted her heart, even after so many years. They'd been separated more times than she liked to remember, but for this tour, he'd decided to come with her. Rebekah was incredibly grateful that he would pack up his life to show his support.

_I can write anywhere,_ he'd said, _and I want to do this with you. This is what you've been waiting for._

Over the past six years, Landon had emerged as quite a talented playwright, and some of his work had been well received in the Atlanta and Charlotte areas. Rebekah was proud of him, always. Now, as he smiled at her, she leaned in and kissed him.

They were still wrapped in each other when Rosalyn emerged from the theater. She stopped and stared openly. Realizing they were not alone, Rebekah turned and stared back at her cast mate. Her expression was confident as she held Rosalyn's gaze. With her eyes, Rebekah dared her former roommate to make some snide, inappropriate comment.

Rosalyn stared back, her expression dark and confusing. She looked from Landon to Rebekah, and there was understanding written in her face. She could see that Rebekah had lived a lot of life since she'd left Central Carolina. Rebekah had fought hard to be in this place, and Rosalyn no longer scared her. Then, for an instant, there was something different in Rosalyn's face. Rebekah couldn't say if it was jealousy or sadness, because it was gone as soon she saw it. With out a word, Rosalyn raised her chin and walked off, to bask in the loneliness that came with being so intolerably obnoxious.

* * *

Jacob Callahan arrived at the theater just early enough to wander around a bit before his choreography rehearsal. This would be his first national tour, and the theater in Atlanta was one he'd not really seen before. His regional credits were strong, and he'd done an off-Broadway run in New York that had been very well received. However, most of his experience had been in the Chicago area. On one hand, this was a bit of a step down, to be understudying. He'd finished his last run as a lead. However, this was _Wicked_, and he was willing to take whatever they offered him.

As he milled around through the lobby and studied the intricate woodwork in the turn-of-the-century building, Jacob supposed he could do worse. Understudying for Fiyero meant he would have at least a few performances as a lead. It would be good exposure, and would definitely pad his resume. He tried to prepare for rehearsal as he looked at the many, full-size posters from previous productions that hung on the walls. It was impressive, and the lobby could easily hold hundreds. He pulled on each of the doors that led into the orchestra level of the house and found them all locked, save for one. The far door on the left was unlocked, and Jacob pulled it soundlessly open and stepped inside.

The theater was always different from this angle. He was used to seeing things from the stage, and Jacob often forgot how this viewpoint created an undeniable magic. Even in its unfinished state, the set was incredible. The clockwork detailing and the massive dragon were coming together well. The thing that made Jacob drop into a seat in absolute awe, however, was the woman on stage. She was clearly their Elphaba, and she was running through _Defying Gravity_ with the director. The other woman, with her mane of curls pulled back on top of her head, was obviously Galinda. But it was the dark-haired one that made Jacob's mouth drop open.

Her voice was deep, rich, and flowed over him like sweet, warm honey. She easily made the transition from scared and uncertain, to powerful and determined. She took the music as written, and made him believe she could fly. Even without the lift and the technical effects to complete the scene, she was captivating. Jacob was transfixed by this woman, who had a haunting quality that made him feel as though he'd been wrapped in some sort of real, dark magic.

He sat there in the shadows and watched her, as the blonde was dismissed and she began to sing through _I'm Not That Girl_. He felt fixed in place, spellbound. From her dark, tumbling hair to her long-limbed, perfectly-curved body, she was exotic and different in her beauty. Jacob's breath caught as she sang the sad, simple melody about having to watch her first love run off with another girl. This woman's eyes were so very complicated and sad, even from this distance, that he wanted to go to her. Even having spent so many years in the theater, Jacob was swept away by her performance.

He'd never believed in love at first sight. He'd never really put much faith in romance, in general. Jacob had worked hard to be where he was, and he didn't have time to pine over girls. He didn't consider himself to be a particularly romantic person at all. He assumed someday he might meet someone and settle down, when his performance schedule became less demanding. Until now, he'd been content with the occasional fling. This woman, however, was making him reconsider.

Suddenly realizing he was due in the rehearsal studio, Jacob got up and silently left the way he came. He shook himself and tried to dismiss the experience as a moment of insanity.

_You're acting like a stupid kid, falling for the first attractive girl you see_, he berated himself, _She's just talented. There have been plenty of good looking women you could've drooled over. Get a hold of yourself._

However, as he rehearsed the dance numbers with the rest of the ensemble, he couldn't get her out of his head. Jacob couldn't make his stomach stop doing flips when he remembered this nameless woman's other-worldly voice. He wanted her in a way he'd never wanted anyone before. He wasn't sure if it was merely physical, or just some spell cast by a talented actress. Still, he wanted her.

* * *

It would be another couple of days before Rebekah would have a chance to rehearse with the entire cast. Her vocal rehearsals had been intense, but she felt like she was getting a hold of what was expected of her. Still, she was a bit stressed when she arrived the morning of their first all-cast rehearsal. They would be trying to work through the opening of the show today, and she knew it would be a bit grueling. Even with the most talented performers, putting together a scene with so many elements was always tedious. It looked so effortless, when it was complete, but the road to that point was paved with much frustration.

Rebekah made her way into the theater, sipping coffee and running the solo line of the opening song in her head. She dropped her stuff in her dressing room and grabbed some water as well. She needed to be in good form today, and she'd worn sweats in case her bubble lift was ready to be tested.

There were some brief introductions before they got started, and Rebekah found that trying to remember who was understudying for whom was as confusing as always. It was a system that ran quite smoothly, but took a massive amount of planning to keep organized. Rebekah had been a swing herself, and she knew how hard it was to keep all the tracks in a show straight. She smiled kindly and shook hands with a few of the ensemble members, and then the director put them to work.

Things moved along slowly, as Rebekah expected, and Rosalyn appeared after the first couple hours. Her entrance wasn't until the very last portion of the song, and she watched as they continued. The choreography was rough, but it moved, and there were a few moments when Rebekah could see the magic beginning to show. She was a bit daunted by the minute-long costume change she had at the end of this number, but it would come together. With enough sweat and tears, anything was possible.

They finally took a quick lunch break, and then plowed onward for the rest of the afternoon. Each actor was blocked and, by the end of the day, they began to move as a company. This was part of what made Rebekah love the theater. It was not easy, but when things worked, the cast became a sort-of unified organism, moving together to capture the audience. When it worked, it worked beautifully, and Rebekah was optimistic.

When they were dismissed for the day, a couple of the ensemble members waved Rebekah over. She smiled and greeted them.

"Rebekah Rawlings?" the girl asked.

She nodded.

"I thought I knew you, when I saw your name. I think we were in _Cats_ together, a while back…"

"Oh yeah," Rebekah remembered, "That was here, before they renovated the stage. You're…Cassie, right?"

The girl smiled, "Yep. This is Stephen. We met at auditions."

Stephen was short and dimpled, and Rebekah picked him as an understudy for Boq. She shook his hand, and told him her name again.

"You want to get some dinner?" Cassie asked.

"Sure," Rebekah smiled, grateful to have some friends. One could never be sure if the other cast members would be welcoming.

Stephen called for someone across the stage, and a taller, graceful guy made his way over. As he joined them, Stephen said, "This is Jacob. We were in a workshop together back in Chicago. He's the first understudy for Fiyero."

Rebekah nodded, taking in Jacob's friendly, greenish eyes and his strong jaw line. He had a smattering of freckles across his nose that she was certain he spent a lot of time covering with stage makeup. His hair was dark chestnut, and was trying to curl, in spite of the time he'd obviously spent combing it down.

"So…are we gonna eat?" Cassie asked with a smile.

"I'm starving," Jacob agreed, and they made their way outside.

Having spent the most time in Atlanta, Rebekah took them a few stops down the rail line to a place she'd always loved. It was a big enough to have a nice selection, but the seats were cozy and quiet. She'd called Landon, but he was wrapped in some sort of character breakthrough. He'd sweetly told her to go on without him. When they arrived, the four of them were seated quickly enough, and ordered some drinks.

Rebekah sipped a soda, because alcohol tended to give her a massive headache. She listened as Cassie and Stephen raved about how well they felt rehearsal had gone. Jacob was quiet, and she wondered if he had the charisma to pull off Fiyero. Even the understudies for this show had to be excellent, but he seemed distant and a bit lost.

Rebekah studied him, and after a few minutes, asked, "So…Fiyero, huh?"

"Just the understudy," Jacob answered.

"So we'll be working together. Do you think you can keep up with me?" Rebekah teased.

Jacob smiled, "I'll dance circles around you."

She tossed a straw at him, and decided he must just be shy.

"So…Elphaba…what's her name, Rosalyn? She's ridiculous," Cassie commented.

"Like…ridiculous bad, or ridiculous good?" Rebekah asked warily. She noticed that Jacob's head snapped up at the mention of Rosalyn's name. He looked a bit tormented.

"Both, maybe?" Cassie answered, "She's the best I've seen in a while, vocally. But if looks could kill…"

"Believe me," Rebekah mumbled, "I know."

"Because you have to work one-on-one with her?" Stephen sympathized.

"And because I know her," Rebekah chuckled.

"Really?" Cassie looked surprised.

Rebekah sighed, "Yep. I lived with her for a year, in school. It's a time I try to forget."

Jacob was studying her closely as she spoke, suddenly looking very interested. Rebekah filled them in a little on Rosalyn's outrageous behavior and grating personality. She left out the more personal, disturbing details about Rosalyn's past, though. It only seemed to be the decent thing to do. Jacob continued to look more and more morose as the conversation progressed.

Finally, Rebekah said to him, "I don't know you that well, but you look like someone just died…"

Jacob finally smiled, "Sorry. I was just…thinking…I mean, I saw Rosalyn singing and…are you sure she's so awful?"

Rebekah nodded, "Yeah, she's crazy."

Stephen smirked, "You think she's hot, don't you?"

Jacob flushed, "No, I think she's beautiful."

Cassie and Stephen laughed and teased him, and Rebekah was a bit shocked. She could not, however, deny that Rosalyn had always had a certain power over men. There was no denying that she was beautiful. She'd never given anyone who wasn't a half-drunk loser the time of day, though.

Until now, Rebekah had never had a reason to care who Rosalyn chose to use or abuse. Jacob, however, seemed both sweet and kind. She hated to see him hurt, and then to have to keep traveling with the crazy woman who would hurt him. It also annoyed her that Rosalyn was back in her life and already making things complicated. It seemed that trouble followed Rosalyn, and Rebekah made a vow not to get involved. She might warn Jacob once, and then she was done. She'd been finished with Rosalyn for some time, and she was determined not to spend this tour dealing with her bizarre and hurtful behavior.

* * *

Jacob was stretching out before rehearsal the next morning when Rebekah approached him. She seemed kind enough, and he was glad to have her as a potential friend. She looked troubled when she started to speak, though.

She bit her lip and said, "I know you don't know me that well, so this might sound obnoxious. I just…feel compelled to say this once…"

Jacob raised an eyebrow.

"You seem like a nice guy. Stay away from Rosalyn. She's like one of those plants that looks absolutely gorgeous and irresistible, until she sucks the life out of you and then doesn't remember you the next day," Rebekah looked at him pointedly, "I mean it. She won't even remember your name. Stay away."

Jacob was a little taken aback, but she seemed to mean well, so he just nodded. Then, he spent the rest of the day staring at Rosalyn. She would only occasionally give him a withering glare, and he fought to make himself not care. He felt ridiculous, and he could not understand why his heart had chosen to betray him so badly.

_And why now?_ he asked himself, _Why this show?_

Inevitably, the music director pulled him, the other understudy, and the lead actor who would be playing Fiyero away for a vocal rehearsal. In an hour's time, Jacob found himself standing in the brightly lit rehearsal studio, facing Rosalyn. She was just inches from him, and the afternoon sun pulled out the copper streaks in her hair. She followed the accompanist's lead and began to sing through _As Long As You're Mine_, and Jacob didn't think he could breathe. He was transfixed and humbled, and his heart didn't care if she was the devil herself. He couldn't stop his pulse from racing, and he was terrified. The heart, he realized with a touch of dread, cannot be told what it wants. Nor does it realize how often it makes fools of us all.


	12. Chapter 12: Are People Born Wicked?

**Chapter 12: Are People Born Wicked?**

Over the next few weeks, Rebekah watched as the show grew from a chaotic mess with potential, into the production she knew would leave audiences in awe. Opening this show was as big a task as she had known it would be, but it was also as magnificent. There was no feeling like soaring over the stage in her own bubble. It was quite the ego boost. When she was first fitted for her heavily beaded, shimmering, blue ball gown, Rebekah felt a twinge in her stomach like she used to get on Christmas morning when she was a child. Seeing the costumes made it real. This was really happening, and audiences would soon be thrillified by her, as Galinda. And then she laughed at her pattern of thinking, because even her thoughts were starting to sound like her character.

Thankfully, Rosalyn had been mercifully quiet through the process thus far. She worked hard and sang well, but she kept to her dressing room. As was typical, the cast had its cliques and a few people Rebekah could do without, but a group of them were becoming quite close. Rosalyn, however, befriended no one. She arrived alone and left alone. The rest of the cast had generally written her off as either snobbish or just plain mean. She refused to accompany them to lunch or out for any kind of fun. She criticized or ignored the girls, and quickly shot down any of the guys who were bold enough to show interest. It was strange and a bit sad, but Rebekah found it hard to draw up any real sympathy. She'd given Rosalyn a fair chance six years ago, and she'd rejected any sort of friendship. So Rebekah refused to feel badly, except where Jacob was concerned.

As the weeks progressed, his strange crush on Rosalyn became more and more evident. He was almost sullen when she was around, although she blatantly ignored him and everyone else she wasn't forced to speak to. Jacob, however, was kind and, as Rebekah had thought, a bit shy. Or perhaps he was just contemplative. He always seemed to be studying the rest of them, as though he didn't want to waste words unless there was something truly important to be said. He was not as aggressive as Dominic, who was actually cast into the role of Fiyero, but Rebekah thought Jacob had a good voice.

His interpretation of the character, the couple of times she'd been able to see it, was a bit more playful than obnoxious. He was a different type of Fiyero, but she could appreciate it. Dominic was all slick black hair and chiseled features, where Jacob was more of the schoolboy. His crooked smile and gentle eyes were certainly attractive, and Rebekah thought Rosalyn must be incredibly stupid to ignore him.

However, Jacob did little more than stare at her with sad eyes, so it was hard to know what might happen if he ever really approached her. Still, Rebekah hoped he would not. Even if she could see his obvious affection for her, Rosalyn would certainly just destroy him. As she came to know him better, Rebekah hoped more and more that Jacob would follow her warning and stay away from Rosalyn.

* * *

One Saturday afternoon, after a decent morning rehearsal, what was becoming the usual group was sitting in a café down the street from the theater. They talked easily, as it was somewhat unavoidable to become close to people with which one spent every day for nearly five weeks. Rebekah sipped coffee, as the weather had turned a bit colder, and listened to the others around her.

Stephen and Cassie argued with each other, and she often wondered how long it would take them to start dating, if they weren't already, in secret. Cassie's long legs and fair coloring ran in stark contrast to Stephen's shorter, darker looks. Still, they were inseparable. Misty, who was sandy-haired with big, brown eyes, and Jenna, who had flawless skin and thick, mahogany hair, were trying to decide if the guy across the room was gay or straight. Siobhan, who was caramel-skinned with thick, dark, corkscrew hair, was pretending like she didn't care. Jacob was swirling a straw in his drink and staring into nothingness.

Rebekah threw a pepper packet at him and said, "Are you ever really here, in the present?"

He looked at her, and then smiled, "Yes, I'm just…thoughtful."

"Aw, that's so sweet," Rebekah said, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Is that weird?" Jacob asked, laughing.

Rebekah cocked her head, "Guys are not thoughtful, in general. They usually don't have a lot of…thoughts."

"I'm sure…what's his name, Landon?...will be happy to know that," Jacob returned.

Rebekah threw some more pepper, "I love him, but he does not generally contemplate deep things while we eat."

Jacob laughed, and then started, "I'm just…"

"Mooning over our Elphaba?"

He looked at his hands.

"What is it about her?" Rebekah asked, shaking her head, "Yeah, she's pretty. So are a lot of people. Jenna's gorgeous."

Jenna turned, hearing her name, "What?"

"I said you're gorgeous. That's your compliment for the week," Rebekah teased.

Jenna smirked, "Who needs to think I'm gorgeous?"

"Jacob. So he can stop obsessing over Rosalyn."

Jenna rolled her eyes, and then went back to chattering with Misty. Jacob shook his head, but said nothing.

"Come on!" Rebekah begged, "There has to be someone else you can…stare at…"

Jacob sighed, "Why does it matter so much to you?"

"I don't know…she's just so horrible. You really don't know…" Rebekah tried to explain.

"Maybe there's a reason she's so mean," Jacob suggested.

"There's no good enough reason to be that hateful," Rebekah replied.

Jacob still looked thoughtful, "I don't know…do you ever really listen to what you say in this show?"

Rebekah raised an eyebrow.

"_Are people born wicked,_" he quoted, "_or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?_"

"That's a nice idea," Rebekah shook her head, "but Rosalyn's got no reason to be an outcast. She's beautiful and talented. She has no reason not to fit in. She chooses to hate everyone."

"Don't you think that's lonely, though?" Jacob asked.

"She certainly wasn't lonely in college," Rebekah mumbled.

"Why?" he looked confused.

Rebekah sighed, knowing this could only lead to more pouting, "I told you once before. She had a different guy in our room every other day. Older guys, from a club," Rebekah continued hesitantly, "And when she finally got in trouble, she slept with them…somewhere else. And she was a stripper. As in, dancing on a pole."

Jacob looked a little sick.

"Who was a stripper?" Jenna was suddenly interested again.

"You are fantastic at eavesdropping," Rebekah chuckled.

Jenna rolled her eyes again, "So…who was a stripper?"

Rebekah sighed, "Rosalyn…in college. I was just trying to help Jacob see why he should move on."

"She was a stripper? That's disgusting," Siobhan said, shaking her head.

"That's usually the end of your career, when you start dancing naked," Misty added.

"Apparently, Rosalyn's good enough that it didn't matter," Rebekah grumbled.

"Her room's a couple doors down from mine. She won't talk to any of us, but she has guys in there. I see them. She's just a self-absorbed slut," Misty explained.

Cassie finally picked up on the conversation around her, and shushed Stephen. Then, she added, "They should've cast Megan. She's great, and her personality doesn't make me want to smack her." She was referring to their standby for Elphaba, who was a soft-spoken brunette.

"Megan's not as good," Jacob spoke up, "She's sweet, but she's not as good."

"Well, who says Elphaba has to be so…moody and angry all the time?" Cassie asked with a grimace.

Jacob held up the book he'd been reading as an answer. It was a paperback copy of _Wicked,_ the novel.

Stephen shook his head, "Are you actually reading that?"

"Sure," Jacob looked taken aback, "I read a lot, and this is what this show is based on."

"The show is nothing like that book. The book was weird and dark," Jenna shuddered.

"And Elphaba is all psychotic and crazy in it," Cassie added.

"I'm pretty sure those are the same thing," Stephen teased her, and Cassie smacked him on the arm.

"Well, her lover died, violently. And everyone hated her. How would you act?" Jacob argued.

"I don't know, because I only read about ten pages of that book," Misty answered.

"Me too," Stephen added, "The show is definitely a vast improvement."

Jacob looked troubled, "Sure…it's a simplified version. But the idea is the same…how would you act, if something horrific happened to you?"

None of them answered for a long time, until Cassie said, "Just because something bad happens to you, doesn't mean you have to become a psychopath."

Jacob cocked his head, "What if you absolutely lost your faith in humanity?"

"I don't think there's anything that could make me hate _everyone_," Jenna added.

"And she goes beyond just being upset," Siobhan spoke up, "she doesn't even love her own child. That's messed up."

"Her father used her as an example of what sin looks like. That's a pretty awful childhood," Jacob argued.

"That's what's in that book?" Misty looked appalled.

"I heard there's also a whole lot of witch sex in there," Stephen said with a wide smile.

The girls collectively threw things at him, and he feigned fear. They all laughed, but Rebekah was still lost in thought. She studied Jacob as he flipped through his book.

As the others went back to their own conversations, she asked him, "Are you talking about the book, or are you talking about Rosalyn?"

Jacob half-smiled, "Maybe both. I just…wonder…"

"You think too much," Rebekah chastised, "Let it go. Maybe her life wasn't perfect, but she chooses to be awful. We all have a choice."

Jacob's eyes were suddenly serious as he said, "Maybe, but there are some things you don't just choose to get over. Sometimes, it's just too hard."

Rebekah wasn't sure what he meant, but she was intuitive enough to realize that he was either incredibly empathetic, or he had some of his own demons. She didn't ask, though, because they weren't that close yet. Instead, she thought back to her time living with Rosalyn. She considered telling him what she knew about Rosalyn's childhood in South Carolina, but something held her back.

Rebekah wasn't a malicious person, and something like what had happened in Rosalyn's family was more than just gossip. It could blow up and cause real problems, and Rebekah did not want to take that chance. Also, in spite of how awful Rosalyn could be, Rebekah couldn't forget how tormented she'd looked when she'd found Rebekah and Hayleigh reading about her father. For the sake of peace, she decided to keep it to herself and hope that Jacob would move on. He was certainly a deep thinker, which was unusual in a guy. Some other girl would be lucky to have him, if he ever stopped obsessing over the one person he absolutely could not have.

* * *

Later that night, Rebekah was lying on the couch in her apartment, trying to distract Landon from his laptop. Since they were residents of Atlanta, they were fortunate enough not to be living out of a hotel just yet. They would have the first run of the show to pack up and get ready for the year-long tour. Landon had already given up his home, though, and the two of them were living in the same place for the first time in six years. Rebekah hadn't realized, until now, how hard it had been to maintain their relationship while she traveled or lived hours away. It was comfortable, to know that he was going to be there at the end of every day. Landon was her first love. He was her only love. She couldn't imagine ever being with someone else, and she took it as a good sign that he seemed genuinely excited to pack up his life and do this with her.

Rebekah sat up and slid next to him, running her fingers through his very black hair as he tried to type. When he turned toward her, she kissed him gently.

When she pulled away, he said, "I thought I was supposed to be the seductive one?"

"Well, you're not doing a very good job tonight," she pouted, which was something she rarely resorted to.

Landon smiled, "Sorry. I promised myself I'd spend an hour working on this script."

Rebekah stuck out her lip, but she knew she was pretty terrible at seductive pouting. A few blonde ringlets fell into her face, and Landon playfully pushed them behind her ear.

"Give me forty-five minutes," he conceded.

Rebekah smiled genuinely, and flopped back onto the couch. She flipped through the television channels, but found nothing of interest. After several minutes, she let her mind wander. As was her way, she couldn't help thinking about the conversation earlier, and Jacob's potentially disastrous obsession with Rosalyn. She was a bit like him, in that she didn't generally let things go easily. She was a deep thinker, herself. Her over-analyzation of life had almost kept her from realizing the dream of doing this show. Still, she'd never been obsessed with something with such great potential to cause pain. Rebekah was also more than a little afraid that Jacob's feelings could eventually cause a riff in the cast and, selfishly, she wanted to keep the peace.

After laying there for some time, Rebekah asked, "Do you remember Jacob? Taller guy, the Fiyero understudy? I think you met him when we all went out once…"

Landon raised an eyebrow, "Should I be concerned about where this is going?"

Rebekah threw a pillow at him, "He's obsessed with Rosalyn. As in, he's madly in love with her. I'm afraid it's going to cause problems…"

"You don't really have any control over how people choose to behave," Landon answered without looking up.

"I know," she sighed, "but I just hate drama."

"You have no idea how ironic that sounded."

"You know what I mean," Rebekah rolled her eyes, "I hate it when everyone starts fighting and hating each other."

"Then don't get involved in it," Landon suggested.

"I just…thought maybe I should tell him about Rosalyn's…incident with her father, or at least what I know. Maybe it would make him back off," she mused.

Landon finally looked up, "That's not exactly something you just…mention. And you have no idea what really happened."

"I know. It's a bad idea. I just hate to see our tour become this tense, ball of awkwardness."

"Stop over-thinking it. I've always told you, you have to let things go. You can't fix everything. Everything can't be perfect. If Jacob decides to pursue crazy girl and gets hurt, that's his choice. I don't think they'll shut the show down," Landon smiled.

"I know, I just…"

"You just hate to see people get hurt," Landon finished for her.

Rebekah smirked, "You know me too well."

He turned and looked at her then, and she could see he was losing the battle with himself to stay focused on his work, "I think I'd like to _know_ you right now," Landon teased, suddenly closing the laptop.

"You still have…twenty-five minutes," she scolded him.

He pressed her back onto the couch and said, "I'm giving myself a required break."

"You are such a guy," she shot back, giggling.

Still, Rebekah let him make love to her, and he seemed more than glad to have the distraction. He'd never learned to say no to her, just like she'd never been fully complete without him.

Afterward, they lay there together, comfortable. They were both quite content until Rebekah's phone rang. She stretched to reach it where it had landed on the floor. Finally retrieving it, she saw that it was Hayleigh. She answered it, and Landon rolled his eyes.

"So I guess we're done here?" he whispered, but Rebekah knew that he was kidding.

As she greeted her friend on the phone, Landon, who couldn't help being typically male, went to raid the refrigerator in just his underwear. Rebekah wrapped a blanket around herself as Hayleigh asked, "What are you doing?"

Rebekah blushed, which made no sense since she was on the phone, and didn't answer.

Hayleigh laughed and said, "Having sex?"

Rebekah snorted, "I will not answer that."

"Yeah, I know you too well. You'd think after all this time you'd give me some details," Hayleigh teased.

"Some stuff is just…personal," Rebekah argued lightly.

"It's just sex, Becca. But you know I understand you. I respect your modesty."

"Yeah…" Rebekah agreed softly.

"So how are rehearsals?" Hayleigh changed the subject.

"Pretty good. We're almost there."

"Is Rosalyn keeping her mouth shut?"

Rebekah laughed, "Yeah, she's been decent. I think she understands I'm not afraid of her anymore. She only picks on the weak and the defenseless."

"That sounds about right," Hayleigh chuckled.

"So how's your show?" Rebekah asked in return.

"Doing pretty well. I have to do _The Nutcracker_ again, though. I swear, this is the four-hundredth time," Hayleigh complained.

"Yeah…I've never understood the appeal, but everyone loves it for Christmas," Rebekah paused, "How's Maddelyn?"

"She's good. Her birthday is next month."

Rebekah swallowed over a lot of things and said, "I wish you could be here. You'd be great in this show. We have flying monkeys."

"Don't start that. I'm happy here, and I like this company. Except for _Nutcracker_, we're doing some great stuff this season. Don't feel bad for me, Becca. I've told you that," Hayleigh said carefully.

"I know…" Rebekah whispered.

"This would've ruined your life, but not mine. My dreams were smaller. I got pregnant, and I have a beautiful child. It's hard, but I get to do what I love. That's a blessing," Hayleigh argued.

Rebekah smiled, because this was typical Hayleigh. Her best friend had always been incredibly resilient. She took what came and did what she could with it. When she'd found out she was pregnant four years ago, her boyfriend had taken off. Rebekah had ached for her friend, but Hayleigh cried it out and moved on. She set up residence in Charlotte, because she liked it there. The dance program was strong, and it was a good fit. Hayleigh was raising Maddelyn by herself, and she worked hard to be able to continue to do what she loved.

"Hayleigh?" Rebekah found herself saying, "You know I love you, right?"

There was a pause, "Of course," Hayleigh said, "and someday we're gonna live in the same city, like normal friends."

Rebekah could tell Hayleigh was covering the waver in her voice with humor, and she really did wish that they could be together.

After a moment, Hayleigh finally spoke up again, changing the subject, "I'll let you go. You need the rest. You open a show in like two weeks."

Rebekah laughed softly, "I know, right?"

"Be magnificent. Keep Rosalyn straight. Lock her in a cage if you have to," Hayleigh added.

Rebekah laughed out loud at the thought, and said goodbye. She did need sleep, and Landon was now working on his computer, and eating, in his underwear. She shook her head at him, and fetched some pajamas from the bedroom. Back on the couch, Rebekah laid back and planned for when they would have to pack up and move. She planned for the next rehearsal and laid out the things she needed to work on. She planned what they would need while traveling. And then, with her conversation with Hayleigh still fresh on her mind, Rebekah understood that the best laid plans are often easily shattered. Life favors curveballs, she'd learned, though she'd yet to learn how to take them swinging.

* * *

The following week, they began dress rehearsals, and Jacob got to see Rosalyn in the green makeup for the first time. He knew his opinion was entirely biased, but he thought the color accented the rich, dark color of her ever-unreadable eyes. The color of her wig was just a shade darker than her hair, which only made her appearance more exotic. He avoided looking at her in rehearsals, because it was just too distracting while he was trying to both sing and dance. However, every day when they were dismissed, he watched her until she disappeared into her dressing room.

Finally, one day the week before tech week, he gathered the courage to say something to her. Until now, their only conversations had been to discuss their blocking in rehearsals. Today, however, he wanted to say something else. He was tired of wanting something and doing nothing about it. He wanted to take the risk and extend the olive branch.

So he took a deep breath and knocked softly on her dressing room door. It was open already, but knocking only seemed polite. Rosalyn looked up, having just de-greenified herself. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, and she wore her usual cut off sweatpants and a tank top that was just revealing enough to make Jacob's pulse race.

"What?" she asked flatly.

"Um," he cleared his throat, "I was just wondering…some of us are going to get coffee and I thought…well if you want to come…"

Rosalyn raised an eyebrow, "Is there something wrong with you?"

"What?" Jacob was taken aback.

"Can you not get out a whole sentence?" Rosalyn snapped.

"Well…I mean…yes."

She rolled her eyes, "All you've done is stutter at me since we started rehearsing. How did you ever make it into this show?"

Jacob was floored, but he refused to let her see the hurt he felt, "I was just trying to include you," he said softly.

Rosalyn narrowed her eyes, "I really don't need to be _included_ in your sad little group. Go play with your friends and leave me alone."

She turned back to her mirror, and Jacob was at a loss for words. He'd been shot down before. He'd been rejected before, but never with such blatant hatefulness. He felt like he'd tried to help a lost puppy, and discovered that it was pit viper, instead. Rosalyn's words stung and her calm, measured tone somehow made it worse. She struck with the intent to wound, and without provocation. It was bizarre, and Jacob slunk from the room. His mood was suddenly foul, and he wanted to go home and nurse his wounds.

_So much for trying,_ he thought, and then spent the next few hours trying to make himself get over her. He knew he should take everyone else's advice and write off 'Crazy Rosalyn', as they called her. Still, there was something. In spite of her acidic rejection, his heart still ached for her.

* * *

Rebekah was in her dressing room that same afternoon, and couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Jacob and Rosalyn. Her temper flared, because there was just no good reason for Rosalyn to treat anyone so poorly. It wasn't as if Jacob had been harassing her. He'd barely spoken to her until now.

Rebekah waited until she heard Jacob shuffle away, not wanting to embarrass him by letting him know she'd overheard. With her teeth clenched, she crossed the hallway and entered Rosalyn's dressing room. The other girl was fixing her nails with a bottle of green polish.

"What was that?" Rebekah demanded.

Rosalyn looked up, "Excuse me?"

"So…someone comes in here and tries to invite you to join us, and you act like he spit on you?" Rebekah asked incredulously.

"I thought you were done talking to me five years ago?" Rosalyn shot back.

Rebekah crossed her arms, "I really didn't think it was possible for your personality to become more obnoxious, but you've somehow succeeded."

"Then go away," Rosalyn snapped.

Rebekah clenched her fists, "I have never understood why you're so determined to reject everyone. Are you really that selfish? You just want all the glory and all the guys and you don't give a damn about anyone else?"

Rosalyn's expression darkened, "I never asked you to understand me. Why does it make me selfish to just want to be left alone?"

"Because…no one _wants_ to be alone…all the time!" Rebekah argued.

Rosalyn stood then, "Look, I don't need your sympathy, or your pathetic little attempts at friendship."

"Believe me," Rebekah shot back, "I stopped trying to be your friend a long time ago!"

"Then tell the rest of your little breakfast club, or whatever it is, that I'm not interested in _socializing_," Rosalyn said the last word as though it were poison on her tongue.

"Yet you somehow still find it in your heart to entertain guys in your hotel room," Rebekah said tightly.

Rosalyn looked like a cat, ready to pounce, "Stay out of my business! I know you think you're so much better than me, with your perfect little life, but you understand nothing! Go find your shallow little friends and get out of my dressing room!"

Rebekah clenched her fists, wanting very badly to slap Rosalyn across the face. She held back, though, and said, "Believe me, I intend to leave you alone! I have better things to do than argue with someone who doesn't know how to interact with humans! But unlike everyone else here, I'm not afraid of you! Talent doesn't make up for being selfish and cruel. So if you want to be left alone, then keep your mouth shut. You cannot treat people the way you just treated Jacob."

Rosalyn stepped into Rebekah's face and hissed, with a smirk on her face, "I can do whatever I want. I'm the Wicked Witch of the West."

With that, Rosalyn breezed from the room without another word. Rebekah stood there, wanting to punch something. Particularly, she wanted to chase Rosalyn down and punch her in her perfect mouth. Rosalyn would not be baited, would not be threatened, and she seemed entirely separated from the consequences of her words and actions.

Rebekah stood there, seething, and considered Rosalyn's last statement. She'd meant it to be scathingly humorous, but maybe there was some truth to it. Rebekah wondered if perhaps Jacob had been right, and Rosalyn was as bitter as Elphaba. Maybe they were seeing the character become very real before them. Although, that meant believing there might be some sort of just cause for Rosalyn's behavior, and Rebekah was not ready to consider that. She was, however, ready to throw a bucket of water at her.


	13. Chapter 13: The Fear Beneath

**Chapter 13: The Fear Beneath**

The show opened the following week, after a series of very long days and late nights. They were all in top form, though, and the first night exceeded their expectations. They were exhausted, but most of the cast still went out after their first performance to celebrate a successful opening. It was a good time, and they chattered with excitment about the tour before them.

The whole experience had been a huge rush for Rebekah, from entering the stage in her bubble to hearing the thunderous applause just after _Defying Gravity_. Now, however, she had to focus on keeping that energy in the weeks ahead. Their run in Atlanta was already selling out, and Rebekah was also busy preparing to leave for the next city. She and Landon had to pack what they planned to take with them, and he needed to make a few trips to Collins to store the bigger stuff with Rebekah's parents. It was exciting to feel the tour really beginning, and she and Landon often snuggled together in their emptying apartment and talked about the places they would see.

The first stop, Norfolk, Virginia, was probably not the most glamorous place Rebekah had ever imagined visiting, but she wasn't so concerned about the size of the city. For her, it was about the adventure. Still the giddy optimist, she appreciated each place for what it had to offer. And she relished the opportunity to do what she loved for new audiences. She also kept Hayleigh updated almost daily, as the newness of this experience still made her a bit silly. Her best friend listened and shared vicariously in the joy of being part of something so special. Rebekah promised Hayleigh a _Wicked_ weekend soon, complete with a backstage tour, once they settled into a routine. For now, though, just preparing to travel was consuming.

When the show finally closed in Atlanta, most of the cast members lamented leaving the sprawling city behind. There was no shortage of entertainment in Atlanta, and Norfolk was a much smaller community. Misty and Jenna whined about the lack of nightlife, while Cassie tried to figure out if Washington, DC was a day trip. Rebekah, however, was packed and excited. She'd heard that the small community of Virginia Beach was well decorated for the holidays and, since they would be spending Christmas there, she was excited for the festivities. Small towns reminded her of home, and she'd never stopped being a small-town girl at heart.

It was their first travel day, however, that also brought the first major upset in the production. After arriving in Norfolk, they had a day off before starting performances again. Often called the 'golden day', Rebekah had spent it with Landon, driving along the coast highway and checking out some local stores.

Dominic, however, had apparently decided to spend it riding dirt bikes. Ever the daredevil, he rented a bike at a local track and he and a couple other guys rode the courses all day. Near the end of one run, he overshot a landing and managed to break his left leg in three places. The cast got word of what had happened shortly before six o'clock that day, and were called together immediately to discuss what would be happening. Once they'd all gathered at the theater in Norfolk, their director explained that Dominic would need surgery, and would be out for at least twelve weeks. He would say very little about whether Dominic would return to finish his contract. What he did tell them was that Jacob was now their Fiyero.

Rebekah couldn't help noticing that he looked a little panicked as the announcement was made. It was, after all, quite an abrupt and unexpected turn of events. They had just that night and the following day to be ready to open again the following night. They were also now short a cast member. Still, things had to go on. This was live theater, and sometimes chaos happened. Rebekah just hoped that Jacob had the resilience to use the nervous energy, rather than be consumed by it.

* * *

The following morning, they were called for a complete dress rehearsal. It was apparent from the hushed atmosphere just how important it was that they iron out any potential issues with the change of casting before that evening's performance. Jacob was a bit on edge, because this put-in rehearsal was essentially for him, but he knew his part. He was not an inexperienced actor, and he knew that this was the very reason the understudies had been so well-rehearsed. It was not the lines, the music, or even hitting his marks that made him jittery. It was Rosalyn. He was now her co-star, and he would be performing one-on-one with her for at least the next twelve weeks. He vividly remembered how effectively she'd shot him down several weeks previous, and she gave him a withering glare before she made her first entrance.

Since Fiyero does not appear until well into the first half, Jacob sat backstage and listened to the sounds of the show from the back hallway. He tried to make himself focus and be totally objective. He tried to put aside his feelings for Rosalyn and, as he waited, the rehearsal seemed to move very quickly. He made his first entrance without a problem, and the rest of the ensemble seemed to be functioning without him. Still, it was hard to focus with Rosalyn staring him down during each scene. He knew she was evaluating him, and that he didn't have the charisma that came so easily to Dominic. Still, he thought it was going well. That is, until Act Two.

The scenes with Rebekah were easy, because they were so comfortable with each other. However, Jacob was absolutely unprepared for what happened when they reached _As Long as You're Mine._ He'd rehearsed this song many times, both with Rosalyn and with Megan. He knew the part and he knew the show. Rehearsals until this point had been very technical, and very un-magical. They had all been focused on getting a good vocal blend, and if they were blocking each other from the audience. They'd barely kissed, because there were so many details to work out. Jacob had assumed that's how the shows would play out, as well.

Now, though, as the music began to play, it felt as though the low, steady beat of the drum was in rhythm with his heart. This was the first time he'd been on the stage, in this role, with all the elements in place. They were fully costumed, and the lights and the fog created an other-worldly atmosphere.

As he knew to do, Jacob led Rosalyn through the faux forest and onto the stage. As the music pulsed around them, he turned and stared at her. Suddenly, he lost himself in the magic. Rosalyn was stunning in the dark, shimmering, heavily ruched dress. Even with almost every inch of her skin covered, the well-fitted bodice and long, flowing skirt made her look regal, like a dark queen. Her makeup was dramatic, and the green had a mystical shimmer to it. When she looked at him, Jacob felt more like Fiyero than ever. He felt like he was seeing this haunted witch for who she was, for the very first time. Then, pulling him down onto the stage with her, Rosalyn started to sing.

Jacob was mesmerized as her sultry voice flowed over him, making him feel warm from his feet all the way to where her hands were entwined with his. Rosalyn was a consummate performer, and her face was the picture of desperate longing as she sang through the chorus of the song. Then, as he'd rehearsed, Jacob cut off the very end of the last note by kissing her. However, this time, Rosalyn responded. She touched his face and, in those few seconds, it felt as though an eternity passed. When she pulled away for his verse of the song, Jacob nearly forgot to sing.

He hoped the very genuine flush in his face came across as simply the result of being a talented actor. Struggling, Jacob managed to make it through the rest of the song. If nothing else, he was certain he communicated the desire to make love to this woman in front of him quite effectively. Then, when the song ended and the music grew softer, Rosalyn said the line that tended to make the audiences swoon.

She held his hands and said haltingly, "It's just...for the first time I feel…_wicked_."

She crashed into him then, kissing him fervently, and Rosalyn held nothing back. On stage, she did nothing halfway. Jacob was unprepared, and his blood raced as he forgot where he was entirely. Even in his imagination, when he'd thought of really kissing her, it had been nothing like this. Jacob wanted to pull her into him and forget the rest of the world. He was so breathless and taken that when she finally pulled back and looked troubled, he forgot completely what he was supposed to say.

Rosalyn stared at him, and her eyes flashed when he missed his cue. Fumbling, Jacob finally managed to get out, "What's wrong?"

The rest of the scene happened, and then the rest of the show happened. Jacob, however, was quite a mess. He knew he had to get a hold of himself and focus. This ridiculous obsession was going to jeopardize his position in this cast if he wasn't careful. He knew he'd be forgiven one brief slip, because it had been rehearsal and the director knew all of their nerves were frazzled. Still, he had to get past this. He couldn't have Rosalyn, and he had to find a way to make his heart understand that. Jacob needed to focus on her vile personality and her scathing treatment of him. He had to find anything that would make him able to objectively perform with her.

And then, as if on cue, she approached him after the rehearsal had concluded. In the dim light of the stage-left wing, Rosalyn said, "You need to get it together. I don't know what's going on, but if you can't stand the pressure, find another show. I need someone who can keep up with me, and stuttering and forgetting your lines won't cut it," she gave him a hard, unforgiving look.

Jacob stood there with his mouth open because, as usual, he had no answer.

* * *

After the show that night, Rebekah sat in her dressing room, relieved that they'd made it through without incident. Jacob had done well, she thought, and the audience seemed to like him. He was sweet, and that was a different kind of charming.

She was lost in thought, packing up her purse, when she heard a voice behind her say, "Do you know what's wrong with Jacob?"

Rebekah turned to see Rosalyn standing inside the door.

"Are you talking to me?" Rebekah said with a raised brow.

"I just need an answer," Rosalyn shot back.

Rebekah crossed her arms, "Hello Rosalyn, it's so nice of you to stop by. Yes, you can come into my dressing room," she said acidly.

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "I just want to know why he's freaking out. Then I'll be out of your sad little space here."

"Figure it out yourself, since you know everything," Rebekah turned away.

"He blew a line in rehearsal," Rosalyn plowed ahead.

"Everyone does that," Rebekah shrugged.

"Why is he staring at me like he does? Is he trying to picture me naked? Is he some sort of psycho pervert?"

"Rosalyn," Rebekah sighed, "You have derailed."

"Whatever. What's his deal?" Rosalyn demanded.

Rebekah heaved another sigh, "Are you really this stupid? Or is this another act?"

Rosalyn's lips flattened into a thin line of disapproval.

Rebekah considered for a moment, and then said, "He's in love with you, genius. He's so completely in love with you that he is oblivious to your absolutely intolerable personality."

Rosalyn said nothing for a long time, and her face changed from angry to a sort-of sad confusion that Rebekah couldn't exactly read. Finally, she turned and left the room without another word. Rebekah sighed and dropped her head onto the counter.

* * *

By the following Friday, the cast had regrouped with Jacob as Fiyero, and the shows were going as well as they had in Atlanta. He seemed to have calmed down a bit, and his performance became a bit more natural. Rebekah enjoyed his portrayal of the character, and the two of them had fun on stage. She thought they looked a little more believable as young lovers than she and Dominic had.

That night, Rebekah got stuck in the theater much later than she intended. She was supposed to meet Landon and some of the cast members for a very late dinner. She'd had already gone out the stage door once after the show, and was mobbed by autograph-seekers. She'd conceeded, because she thought it was a nice gesture. The least she could do was sign a program if they enjoyed the show enough to find the stage door. Then, she'd come back to retrieve a bag she'd forgotten, and time had gotten away from her. The theater was now nearly empty, and she was starving.

Caught up in her thoughts, Rebekah jumped when Jacob knocked on her door. She looked up and said, "Come in?"

He looked anxious as he stepped in and said, "I think something's wrong."

"What?" Rebekah looked alarmed.

Jacob ran his hand through his hair, "I think something's wrong with Rosalyn."

Rebekah rolled her eyes, "Something's always wrong with Rosalyn."

"No," he shook his head, "I think something happened…"

Rebekah sighed, "Jacob, she's insane. If she's screaming at someone or chanting to herself, it's nothing new. Let it go."

"No," he was emphatic this time, "I went out the back door to leave, and this guy was out there with her..."

"That's also not new," Rebekah snorted.

Jacob's eyes were troubled, "He had her up against the brick wall and…I think he was trying to hurt her. He looked pretty crazy. He ran when I came out the door, and she took off into her dressing room. She's been in there for like an hour with the door locked."

In spite of her intense dislike for Rosalyn, Rebekah was disturbed. All the girls knew it was risky to leave the building late at night, and they usually went in groups. Rosalyn, however, refused any company. Still, being obnoxious did not make her deserve to be assaulted.

Rebekah heaved a sigh and stood up. She made her way past Jacob and across the hall. She knew this was probably just going to result in a lot of yelling, but she couldn't very well just leave her cast mate alone if something bad really had happened. Rebekah wasn't that heartless. So she knocked on the door several times, and got no answer. Then she banged on the door, and got not answer. She looked to Jacob, not sure what else could be done if Rosalyn was determined to spend the night in her dressing room.

Jacob went in search of someone on the maintenance staff who might be able to open the door, and Rebekah started to feel a little afraid. Rosalyn was incredibly unpredictable, and Rebekah had no idea what to expect from such a volatile person. After several minutes, Jacob returned alone. He'd found no one, but he had a screwdriver in one hand.

"I found this," he offered, and Rebekah looked confused. He placed it in the door handle and, after a bit of maneuvering, managed to unlock the door.

Jacob started to open it, but Rebekah stopped him, "Let me do this," she said, "I think, if it's possible, she might hate me just a touch less than you."

Jacob considered, and then backed away and sat down in a chair against the wall. He looked worried, but said nothing. Rebekah very slowly pushed the door open. It was dark in the dressing room, and she wondered if Rosalyn was even inside. She peered around the door and, as her eyes adjusted, she could just barely make out the outline of a figure in the shadows. Rebekah flicked on the light, and froze.

Rosalyn was sitting in the tiny shower stall that she used to wash off her makeup after each show. She was dressed and dry, and was sitting in a tight ball, with her knees against her chest. Her head was resting on her knees, so that all Rebekah could see was her long, dark hair falling around her legs. Rosalyn's hands were in her hair, clutching either side of her head, and she was trembling. She was trembling so badly she could've been mistaken for some sort of withdrawing addict.

"Rosalyn?"

Rebekah said her name three or four times, but there was no answer. Rosalyn would not respond, not even to spit out some biting retort. Rebekah stared at her, and the silence around them started to become intolerable. The clocked ticked, and Rebekah was afraid. She had no idea what to do, so she stared at Rosalyn's emerald fingernails, which were buried in her raven hair, and waited.


	14. Chapter 14: Beautifully Tragic

**Chapter 14: Beautifully Tragic**

Rebekah stood there for some time, waiting for something without really knowing what that something was. She watched Rosalyn, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. If they had been friends, if this were Hayleigh, she would have rushed forward and tried to determine what had happened. This, however, was the person who'd mocked and despised her. This was the girl who'd made her life miserable. So Rebekah stood there.

When the silence became unbearable, she finally slipped back outside the room and said to Jacob, "Call Landon," she tossed him her phone, "Tell him I'm fine, but I can't go out and to come over here. Tell him we might be here a while."

Jacob was clearly worried, but nodded wordlessly and started to scroll through the stored numbers in Rebekah's phone. She turned and quietly went back inside the dressing room. Rosalyn had not moved. Rebekah shut the door carefully, and sat in the chair at the small counter.

After another lengthy silence, she finally asked softly, "Did…that guy…did he hurt you?"

When Rosalyn finally looked up, her eyes were bloodshot and her face was ghostly pale. She wouldn't look at Rebekah, but instead stared across the room into nothingness. When she spoke, she said, "What are you doing here? Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

No longer surprised at Rosalyn's erratic pattern of conversation, Rebekah said, "Yes. Do you want me to go?"

"I can't think of any reason why you'd care about my problems," Rosalyn said bitterly.

Rebekah fixed Rosalyn with a look of grim resolve and answered, "You're right. You've given me no reason to care. I probably should've just left. But it's not in my nature to leave someone who's…hurting. I'm not that heartless, Rosalyn. If you know anything about me, you know that I have an incredibly irritating tendency to care too much. Or maybe you just never bothered to know me at all."

Rosalyn turned then, and fixed Rebekah with a long, tormented stare. It was almost as though she was really seeing Rebekah for the first time. Neither said anything for some time, and Rosalyn's eyes remained dark and her thoughts indiscernible. Eventually, she turned and stared at the wall again.

Just when Rebekah started to wonder if she should just leave, Rosalyn finally spoke, "You want to know why I shot him, don't you?"

"What?"

"My father. You want to know why I shot him," Rosalyn repeated.

Rebekah was taken aback because, at that moment, she just wanted to make sure Rosalyn hadn't been attacked. She swallowed hard over the sudden realization that whatever was happening right now was bigger than just fear over a creepy guy in the alley.

"Do you want to tell me?" was the only thing Rebekah could get out.

After another pause, Rosalyn spoke, and her voice was harsh, "It was so much more than just _that_ day. That was one day! How would you like to be judged on what you did on _one day_, without anyone knowing what happened _every_ day before that?"

Rebekah had no answer, so she just shook her head.

Rosalyn started to spill her story then. She told the story flatly, without emotion, as though she were reading a grocery list. It was as though her words were overflowing from the metaphorical caldera Rebekah had once invisioned, that could no longer contain her secrets. Rosalyn continued to stare at the wall, as though Rebekah weren't even in the room, saying, "My father left when I was a toddler. I think I was two. He used to hit my mother, and he drank too much. He was a pretty typical loser. I think he took advantage of her, because she was foreign and had trouble fitting in. They had a pretty big fight one night, and her beat her up pretty badly. She had him arrested, and I think he decided we weren't worth the hassle. So I grew up without him, and most of those memories sort of faded. My mother had a few boyfriends, but nothing lasted. She still doesn't speak very much English, and I'm sure she was lonely…and then, when I turned thirteen, my father came back. He claimed to be reformed, and he looked the part. He had become a cop and he was full of apologies…"

Rosalyn looked lost in the story, like she'd left the present to drown in the memories from so many years ago. Rebekah sat very still, afraid even to breathe too loudly.

Rosalyn continued, "I was so excited to have a father again. We went out together, all of us. We sat around and watched TV together, like a normal family. I was just young enough…that I had forgotten what he was like, before, so I pretty easily let go of any grudges and…and I loved him."

There was another long, pregnant pause.

"Then, one afternoon...in the summer…it was really hot…I remember…," Rosalyn struggled, "we were home alone, because my mother worked all day…and he raped me. And I was so stunned, I didn't even cry. And then it happened again and again. The year I was in the eighth grade, he would meet me when I got off the bus from school…and almost every day…he raped me."

Rebekah was absolutely horrified. She could think of no words to say, so she just stared at Rosalyn, who still sat in the shower stall, not looking at Rebekah.

After a moment, Rosalyn started again, "My mother had no idea what was happening. She would come home and we would carry on like nothing happened. I thought about saying something, but I knew it would sound ridiculous. And she wanted him there. I knew she was madly in love with him again. I was old enough to see that. So one day, right after I turned fourteen, I finally told him I wanted it to stop. Then, he started threatening me, and hitting me. That one afternoon…I just couldn't do it anymore. When he came…for me…I had a knife, and I threatened him…and he beat me, and screamed at me, and took the knife and…"

Rosalyn finally moved then. To Rebekah's surprise, she pulled up the fitted t-shirt she was wearing so that her back was exposed. Her skin was flawless, except for the criss-crossing scars across her shoulder blades. There were several, of varying lengths, and they looked horribly out of place on her smooth, shapely body. Rebekah swallowed hard, still afraid to respond.

"I thought he was going to kill me," Rosalyn continued, fixing her shirt, "He'd left his gun on the table by the bed and…it was out of its holster. I thought he was going to stab me…so I reached for it and…and I shot him. I guess our neighbor heard all the screaming. The walls were pretty thin. I didn't know she was in the apartment until I looked up…and she was standing there," Rosalyn stopped and studied her hands, "And the worst part is…I wasn't sorry. I didn't mean to kill him…but I wasn't sorry…"

"Rosalyn…" Rebekah finally whispered, at a loss for more words.

Rosalyn shook her head, "You don't have to say anything. I've heard it all… 'It's not your fault', 'He deserved it', 'God forgives', and 'God loves you'…whatever," she rolled her eyes, "God doesn't forgive people like me…_Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God,_" she quoted bitterly, "If anything, God let this happen to me..."

Rebekah looked perplexed, and felt a little sick. Rosalyn's random biblical quotations were more disturbing than comforting, she was learning.

"After I was cleared of all charges, my mother moved us out of Farrow, to Conover. She wanted to get us away from the reporters and the angry parents and the people leaving hate mail on our doorstep."

"Hate mail?" Rebekah was shocked.

"Yeah… 'your daughter is a demon' and such. After we moved, she started making us go to church. We went every Sunday for four years…I guess to try to compensate for all of my sins. All I learned, though, is how very certain it is that I'm pretty much damned," Rosalyn spat.

"Rosalyn…I don't think…" Rebekah whispered.

"Look," Rosalyn cut her off, "I'm a whore. I was _made_ a whore…and that's what I'll always be. Just…leave it alone."

There was another silence, as Rebekah tried to think of something to say. However, she was absolutely unprepared to have this argument. She had no idea how to even begin to unwind this web of horrors.

Rosalyn rubbed her eyes and brushed back her tangled hair, saying, "That guy outside was just a drunk pervert who wanted one of us to come out alone. He's probably harmless when he's sober. I just…I can't…I can't handle it when a guy is…aggressive…"

After she made the statement, Rosalyn started trembling again, and she closed her eyes to try to calm herself down. Rebekah fought a strong urge to get up and run from the room. Somehow, she had stumbled into a deep pit of something very awful, and she was ill-equipped to know what to do. She'd always known that Rosalyn tended to bring trouble, but she'd always assumed it would be the type of trouble where people got angry and fought. She'd worried that Rosalyn would bring around creepy guys or stumble into rehearsal half-drunk. This, however, was much worse. Now, Rebekah knew she couldn't just ignore what she'd been told. How could she continue hating this woman who'd been through such hell? But then, how could she simply forget how awfully Rosalyn had treated her?

After another moment, when Rosalyn had managed to calm the trembling somewhat, she took a deep breath and said, "You can stop freaking out. I'm fine."

Rebekah was stung by the laughable nature of the statement, "Rosalyn…I think it's pretty obvious that you are _not_…fine…"

Rosalyn did not answer, but leaned back against the shower wall, "No one knows what I told you. Not my mother. No one. They all thought I shot him because…because he was hitting me. I couldn't tell anyone…my mother would never believe that he could've raped me. And it doesn't matter, because he's gone…and I'm glad. I'll burn in hell for it, but I'm glad. He won't hurt anyone else…he never touched my little sister…so I guess that's something…"

"You…have a sister?" It was the only thing Rebekah could think to say.

Rosalyn nodded, "A half-sister. She was six…then. I'd rather go to hell than have let him touch her."

Still shocked at the at the gravity of this revelation, Rebekah asked, "You never told anyone? Ever? In…thirteen years?"

"No. Because it doesn't matter," Rosalyn finally stood and pushed her hair back from her face. When she looked at Rebekah, her expression was hard, "It's done. It is what it is, and I am what I am."

Rebekah wanted to argue, but she sensed it would be fruitless. Instead, she asked, "Why me? Why tell me? And why now?"

Rosalyn stared at her, "Because you're the only person who ever had to see…this," she indicated where she'd been sitting, in the shower, and how upset she'd been, "You're the only one who ever...insisted on finding me. But if you say anything, I'll make your life hell."

"You don't have to threaten me, Rosalyn," Rebekah tried to keep her tone even, "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Rosalyn laughed bitterly, "People are pretty horrible, in general."

In contradiction to everything she'd felt up until this point, a part of Rebekah wanted to cross the tiny space and wrap Rosalyn in a fierce embrace. Clearly, she was suffering, and Rebekah hated to see anyone suffer. Rosalyn was too hard, though. She was calloused and angry, and trying to comfort her seemed a bit like trying to soothe a snarling mountain lion.

"Rosalyn…I'm really, really sorry…" Rebekah finally whispered.

The other girl pulled an elastic from her wrist and whipped her hair into a knot behind her head. Then, she picked up her bag and said, "What do you have to be sorry for? You didn't rape me."

Rebekah was horrified and taken aback in the same moment. As Rosalyn pulled open the door, she asked, "Where are you going?"

"Home…to my room," Rosalyn shot back.

"But…" Rebekah had no idea how to respond. She followed Rosalyn out the door to where both Landon and Jacob were now standing. They both looked tired and concerned.

Rosalyn took off down the hallway, and Rebekah called after her, "You're not going alone are you?"

Rosalyn turned around, "Does it really matter to you?"

Normally, Rebekah would've let Rosalyn take off. Tonight, however, something had changed. Suddenly, she saw through the spiteful anger, and saw the hurting woman beneath. Suddenly, what happened to her co-star mattered. Rebekah took a few steps forward and took Rosalyn's arm, stopping her, "You're going to let Jacob follow you back. You're not going back out there alone again."

They held each other's gaze for a moment, and Rosalyn held back her usual scathing comments. Her eyes flashed, but she nodded ever so slightly. Rebekah caught Jacob's eyes, and motioned for him to follow Rosalyn. He looked confused and a little afraid, but he complied. Rosalyn took off again, with Jacob a few steps behind. Rebekah knew she mostly likely wouldn't even acknowledge his presence. Still, at least she wasn't alone.

After they disappeared, Rebekah finally looked at Landon. His face was a picture of confusion, but he said nothing. Overwhelmed by the intensity of what had just happened, Rebekah felt tears prick her eyes. She wiped them away, not sure exactly why she was crying. Landon wrapped her in his arms and did not ask questions, yet.

* * *

The following morning, Rebekah lay in bed for some time. She'd slept late, and they had a matinee that afternoon, which always made for a long day. She held onto Landon as they lay there, and he played with her wild, corkscrew strands of hair.

After a while, he finally asked, "Do you want to tell me what happened last night?"

Rebekah looked into his piercing blue eyes and said, "Not really. I would really like to forget last night…"

Landon kissed the top of her head, "We can do that, if you want."

She shook her head, "No…that's the problem. It's _not_ something I can just forget. That would make me a horrible person…"

"You don't have to take on Rosalyn's problems, Becca. She seems to dig her own holes. Let her find her way out."

Rebekah studied the ceiling, "Yesterday, I would've agreed with you…"

"So…what changed?"

She considered the man beside her, and decided this was a secret she couldn't carry alone. She would never be able to help Rosalyn by herself. The weight of it was too great for one person. And she trusted Landon completely, almost more than she trusted herself.

So Rebekah very slowly told him what she'd learned the night before. She struggled with the more intimate parts of the story, and she finished by saying, "This has to stay between us. This isn't something everyone should know. I just have this feeling…if it got out…it would be really bad."

Landon was quiet for some time, "That's awful," he finally said, "and you don't think it's just one of her acts?"

Rebekah shook her head, "I saw the scars…"

There was a silence, as they both searched for words.

"So…what do I do?" Rebekah whispered.

Landon sighed, "I'm not sure there's anything you can do. If she didn't ask for you help…you can't just fix something like that…"

"I know…" she whispered, "But…"

"She's not an injured kitten you can nurse back to health, Becca. What you described, that's some really messed up stuff. I don't think any of us is qualified…"

"I know," Rebekah stopped him, "But I just…I thought…I don't even know what I'm trying to say…"

Landon played with her hair again, "Just…don't be surprised if she's still as horrible today as she was yesterday. People don't usually change overnight."

Rebekah nodded, but she still felt like she should try to do something. It was her nature.

After another few minutes, she swung herself out of the bed, "I have to call Hayleigh," she said, as explanation.

Landon smiled, "I guess there's just some things I'm not…female enough...to help with?"

Rebekah leaned across the bed to kiss him, "Yes. But there are some other things for which I will definitely be keeping you around."

Landon looked after her longingly as she pulled on a t-shirt and dialed her best friend, leaving him in the bed alone.

* * *

That day at the shows, Rosalyn gave no indication that anything unusual had happened the night before. She barely glanced in Rebekah's direction, and her face gave nothing away when they were together onstage. When Rosalyn became Elphaba, she never dropped the character. She was Elphie, young, uncertain and a bit giddy, in Act One. Then, she easily transformed into the tortured and passionate witch in Act Two. Her performance was always full out, and the audiences loved her. She never faltered, never hinted that anything was wrong, and she always gave all she had. For the first time, Rebekah realized how much focus it must take, to be flawless. She realized how hard it must be, to keep such a terrible secret. For the first time, she felt a hint of respect for Rosalyn.

As was typical on Saturdays, a group of audience members lined up at the stage door after the evening show for Rosalyn's autograph. She was beginning to have somewhat of a following, and there were occasionally one or two fans who'd seen her on the previous tour. Rosalyn took their compliments and posed for pictures without speaking. She only nodded at them, and signed whatever they gave her.

That evening, Rebekah made a point of following her out the stage door. They stood together, more in sync than usual, taking pictures and signing programs. When the crowd finally dispersed, Rosalyn turned and addressed Rebekah for the first time that day.

"We're going out…and you can't wear that," she said flatly.

"What?" Rebekah was startled.

"We're going out…tonight. If I understand correctly, that's what friends do. So go change," Rosalyn explained.

There was a pause, "Wait…when did we become friends?" Rebekah said incredulously.

Rosalyn shrugged, "Are you coming or not?"

Rebekah really wanted to say no, and return to the safety of her room. However, that little part of her that cared too much wouldn't let her. As she stared at Rosalyn's unreadable face, she felt a fragile, almost imperceptible connection. Rebekah was a little afraid, but she wasn't heartless enough to cut the tentative cord. She sensed this might be the first time Rosalyn had ever reached out to another person. So she nodded, and then said, "These are the only clothes I brought with me."

Rosalyn looked her over, "I guess it'll do."

Rebekah thought her jeans and hoodie were fairly cute, and she'd worn her good boots that day. Still, her hair was bit frizzy from the wigs. She sighed and went back inside for a minute to freshen up her makeup. She had no idea where she was going, but she didn't want to look as tired as she felt. As she came back out of her dressing room, she nearly ran into Jacob.

"Hey," he greeted her, "I've been trying to talk to you alone all day…is Rosalyn okay? I mean…did something really bad happen? I followed her all the way back to her room last night, and she didn't even look at me."

Rebekah sighed, not sure what to say, "I can't…it's complicated, Jacob. I just think that…" she struggled for the right words, and then something occurred to her, "Do you want to go out tonight?"

He looked more confused, "Where?"

"I have no idea, but Rosalyn will be there," she offered.

Jacob looked torn, because he obviously realized this whole situation was a complicated mess. Still, his eyes gave away that he couldn't turn down a chance to be around Rosalyn. So he followed Rebekah, who met up with Rosalyn at the stage door. Rebekah saw him struggle to look nonchalant when they both saw what Rosalyn was wearing.

She had on dark jeans that looked as though they'd been made to hug every inch of her long, shapely legs. Her boots only served to accent her tall, slender figure. She wore a fitted, lavender top that left her arms and midriff bare, showing off her smooth, perfect waistline. The shimmering fabric plunged just low enough in the front to accent the curve of her breasts. Her hair was half up, with careless wisps falling around her face. Her eyes were rimmed with black liner, which only emphasized how dark and haunted they were. Rosalyn was undeniably gorgeous. Even Rebekah was struck by her beauty. Tonight, however, she couldn't help feeling a certain sadness about it.

Jacob was still staring when Rosalyn said, "Ready?"

Rebekah nodded and slapped Jacob lightly, and then said, "He's coming, too. It makes me feel safer."

Rosalyn looked him over, her expression a bit annoyed. Still, she didn't argue. So they followed her out of the theater and down the street. Rebekah took a minute to call Landon, who at first insisted on joining them. After some arguing, she convinced him that Rosalyn might take off if she felt too outnumbered. As insane as it seemed, she didn't want to jeopardize this tentative extension of friendship. She assured Landon they would be fine with Jacob, and she promised to be home soon.

After walking several blocks, Rebekah was starting to feel like downtown Norfolk was much bigger than she'd realized. Rosalyn stayed ahead of her and Jacob, leading the way without making conversation.

_This is already one of the strangest friendships I've ever had_, Rebekah thought to herself.

By the time they arrived at their destination, Rebekah was out of breath. She had no idea how Rosalyn could walk so fast in those boots. Jacob was also clearly winded, and the club they entered offered little opportunity for rest. The music was loud and pulsing, and the space was filled with sweaty bodies. It was a pretty upscale place, with several levels and two bars. Still, it was a nightclub, and Rebekah felt entirely out of place. She'd never been much for partying, since alcohol tended to make her sick and, as much as she loved to dance, classical ballet was more her style. She was lucky that Landon was as laid back as she was. They were mostly content to cuddle at home with good movies.

Rosalyn, however, was clearly a seasoned partier. She immediately merged with the crowd of writhing bodies, easily moving to the rhythm of Lady Gaga. Rebekah and Jacob held back, and made their way to a small table on the edge of the dance floor. After a minute, Jacob leaned in and asked over the music, "What are we doing here again?"

"Rosalyn has decided to be my friend," Rebekah answered flatly.

Jacob looked perplexed.

"Believe me, I understand about as much as you do right now," she said in return.

After a minute, he asked, "So…can you tell me what happened? Last night?"

Rebekah sighed, "No…no I can't. I'm sorry. But I can tell you that…I think I understand Rosalyn just a fraction better than I did."

"So she's okay?"

Rebekah hesitated, "The guy in the alley didn't do anything. He just scared her," she answered without further explanation.

"So…" Jacob looked hopeful, "Do you think she'll ever notice me?"

Rebekah looked at him sadly, and shook her head, "It's just too complicated, Jacob. You really need to let it go…"

He looked wounded, and ran a hand through his hair, "Do you want a drink?" he finally offered.

Rebekah smiled, "Can you just bring me some water?"

Jacob nodded, and shuffled away.

Rebekah turned back to where Rosalyn was quickly becoming the focus of the dance floor. The song had changed, and Britney Spears' _Circus _was pulsing through the room. It seemed fitting, because Rosalyn was certainly the center of attention. It was impossible not to see her. She lit up the floor, and her musicality was evident as she moved to the music. The men stared and elbowed each other, captivated. She enticed and terrified them with her perfect smirk and a flutter of her heavily lashed, smoldering eyes. Still, there was a tragic falseness to it all. Tonight, instead of seeing the obnoxious vanity Rosalyn displayed, Rebekah saw the terrified young girl beneath. As Rosalyn moved from guy to guy, grinding and letting them run their hands over her body, Rebekah could see her careful methodology. She danced aggressively, almost daring her partners to keep up with her. However, the moment she found herself with someone who touched her too roughly or tried to take the lead, she was gone. It was a careful game rooted in unspeakable horrors, and now, it made sense to Rebekah.

She was so wrapped up in monitoring Rosalyn that she didn't realize Jacob had returned until he'd been sitting across from her for a minute. She thanked him for the water, and he nodded before going back to staring at Rosalyn. His eyes were filled with longing as they both watched her move across the floor, her dark hair whirling and tumbling around her.

After another minute, Rebekah asked, "What is it about her? Why can't you get over her?"

Jacob studied his hands, and when he looked up, his expression was tormented, "I don't know. There's just…something. She haunts me. I know that sounds crazy but…I _want_ to love her. She's just so full of…something…and I want to be part of it…"

She wasn't sure that he would, if knew what Rosalyn kept bottled inside. Rebekah didn't argue with him, though, but stared across the dance floor once again. As she saw Rosalyn throw her head back in musical laughter, she whispered, "She's beautifully tragic…"

And it was abundantly clear that, this time, the truth in the phrase made it far from humorous.


	15. Chapter 15: Scarred

**Chapter 15: Scarred**

Over the course of the following two weeks, Rosalyn proceeded to drag Rebekah to every nightclub within a few blocks of the theater in Norfolk. Jacob usually went along, as well as Landon, for the sake of Rebekah's sanity. The loud music and scantily clad people were part of a world that she rarely frequented, and it began to grate on her nerves. Rebekah found herself sleeping later than usual and relying on a lot of coffee to keep herself alert. She had no idea how Rosalyn functioned like this, and every fiber of her being wanted to tell her new friend she was done. However, her heart was compelled to keep it up. Having seen Rosalyn for who she was, Rebekah wanted very much to show her a measure of real friendship.

Landon argued that following her cast mate around while she danced with strangers was not exactly a friendship, and wasn't changing anything about Rosalyn's life. Still, Rebekah was compelled to keep dragging everyone around Norfolk's hottest spots. She'd never been able to turn her back on someone who was hurt or struggling. She'd always thought of it as one of her greatest weaknesses. As the days passed, though, Rebekah began to think that supporting someone like Rosalyn would take a great deal of strength. Not only was she tired and fighting headaches from the obnoxious amount of noise in the clubs, there were the eight shows a week in which she still had to perform.

Finally, after two solid weeks of this schedule, the other cast members began to notice. Cassie stopped by Rebekah's room after the Sunday matinee, looking concerned.

After Rebekah let her in, she said, "Okay…we've all decided it's time to say something. What's going on with you and Crazy Rosalyn? You've only been to lunch with us once in two weeks, and according to Jacob, you're going out with her at night?"

Rebekah chuckled, "A resounding thank you to Jacob for telling everyone that."

"Well…we drug it out of him. And he's a terrible liar," Cassie joked, "But seriously…what's going on?"

Rebekah chewed her lip as she considered her answer, "Rosalyn asked me to go and…it seemed rude to say no," she hedged.

Cassie raised an eyebrow, "She's always rude to us. I say…tell her no and slam a door in her face."

Rebekah swallowed. She was completely unsure how to justify what she was doing without revealing a lot of things that were very confidential. Finally, she said, "Rosalyn…she's not exactly who I thought she was…who we thought she was. I know this sounds crazy but…I think she needs a friend."

"I think she needs to be smacked a few times," Cassie retorted.

Rebekah sighed, "It just…got a little complicated, that's all…"

Suddenly, Cassie's eyes lit up, "Oooohhh…did you find out something good about her? Did she confess some horrible secret? Because if she did, I say…screw friendship. Tell me what it is and we'll use it as blackmail."

"Cassie," Rebekah shook her head, "you really have no idea what you're saying."

"Sure I do! Does she have a secret love child or a horrible birthmark? Is she part of a cult? Is she gay and afraid of her parents' reaction?"

Rebekah rubbed her eyes, "No…no…and no. It's really not a big deal. I've just been out with her a few times and we barely spoke. I'm just soft hearted…it's a weakness. Can we just let it go?"

Cassie exhaled heavily in frustration, "I guess. But I really thought you hated her."

"You know, I'm still not entirely sure myself how I feel," Rebekah admitted.

Cassie cocked her head, "You're a little weird, you know that?"

Rebekah smiled, "Yes…I do."

"I guess you're lucky that you're Galinda. Everyone has to love you anyway," Cassie teased.

Rebekah looked thoughtful, "I don't know…Galinda's too easy. She's so obviously likable. It's Elphaba who has the most heart…underneath it all…"

Cassie said nothing, but looked at Rebekah curiously, as though she were trying to determine the meaning behind the ambiguous statement.

* * *

That evening, several members of the cast decided to spend the night off eating out together. Sunday was one of the only days that afforded them the opportunity to have a leisurely meal, and it was becoming a routine to take advantage of it. Rebekah had been warring with herself all afternoon over whether to invite Rosalyn. The idea had occurred to her just before the matinee, and she'd been mulling it over since then. She thought it might be good for Rosalyn to interact with people other than the random men she met in bars. However, Rebekah also recognized that trying to get past Rosalyn's abrasive, social awkwardness would not be simple. Still, she felt she should try. If she did nothing, their relationship would remain what it was, with Rebekah acting the part of a confused puppy, following Rosalyn around.

So after she'd washed and tamed her hair, finished her makeup, and pulled on one of her favorite outfits, Rebekah took a deep breath and made her way towards Rosalyn's room. In this particular hotel, their rooms were on the same floor, but several hallways apart. Taking a deep breath, Rebekah knocked carefully on the heavy door. Rosalyn pulled open it open after a minute, raising an eyebrow.

"So…" Rebekah tried to sound nonchalant, "some of us are going to dinner…and I wondered if you wanted to come…"

Rosalyn looked incredulous, "Are you serious?"

"Yes," Rebekah returned.

Rosalyn laughed harshly, "I don't think so."

"Why? You have to eat," Rebekah refused to back down.

Rosalyn's face became serious, "Talking to people grates on my nerves."

"Insulting them doesn't seem to be a problem for you," Rebekah challenged.

Rosalyn was silent for a moment, "Do you honestly think anyone wants me there?"

"Maybe they would if you didn't treat them all like some sort of fungus," Rebekah suggested, with a hint of sarcasm.

Rosalyn shrugged, "People are generally irritating."

Rebekah sighed, "Rosalyn…you've been dragging me everywhere for the past two weeks. Maybe we could go somewhere that I enjoy?"

There was a pause before Rosalyn answered simply, "No."

Rebekah grew frustrated, "Is this really what you call a friendship?"

Rosalyn's eyes darkened, "Maybe you should answer that question…since you have so many _friends_."

"I'm only trying to include you," Rebekah said wearily.

"Well, don't. I'm fine," Rosalyn argued.

Rebekah sighed once again, but said nothing more. She left Rosalyn alone and went to dinner. She felt badly, but continuing the argument would've been like arguing with a rock. She was frustrated, and at a complete loss as to how to befriend someone who hated every aspect of friendship.

* * *

In spite of the rejection, Rebekah knocked on Rosalyn's door every morning for the next few days. She refused to give up on the tentative truce between herself and her former enemy, and she wanted to show Rosalyn that life didn't have to be so lonely. Rebekah didn't pretend to assume that she could heal the deep, tragic wounds from Rosalyn's past, but she could at least show a measure of kindness. She hoped that, if she was persistent, she might see a measure of success.

Rosalyn, however, refused every attempt Rebekah made. She was not interested in having lunch, getting her hair done, or even just walking around downtown Norfolk. Rebekah had to admit, none of those activities sounded anything like Rosalyn, but she was at a loss for what else to offer. She'd always been fairly girly, herself.

Finally, on Thursday, Rebekah knocked on the door again. When the door opened this time, she stated, "You have to come with me today."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to keep knocking on your door every morning until you go insane. And I'm going to get up earlier and earlier, and knock louder and louder," Rebekah challenged.

"Why do you suddenly care so much?" Rosalyn snapped.

Rebekah looked baffled, "Because…because…well isn't it obvious?"

Rosalyn studied her, "I don't need your pity."

"You're the one who asked me to go out with you. You're the one who suggested that's what friends do. So…let me show you something else that friends do," Rebekah challenged.

Rosalyn was quiet for a long time, and then finally gave in. She dropped her shoulders in defeat and, leaving the door open a few inches, disappeared back inside. After several minutes, she reappeared, dressed and ready. Rosalyn's wardrobe consisted mostly of fitted, workout clothes and shimmering, tiny tops that showed off her curves as she danced half the night. Her jeans all looked painted on, and the rest of her garments were mostly black.

Today was no different, as she strode through the door in black leggings and layers of black tops, complete with a fishnet layer. To accent it all, she'd given herself a few more inches of height with red stilettos. As Rebekah looked Rosalyn over, she made a decision about where they were going. She lead the way to the elevators and out of the hotel, hoping this would be at least a tolerable morning.

The day was bright, with a sky full of sun that contradicted the crisp, chilly morning air. Both women pulled knee-length coats around themselves as they walked up the streets of downtown Norfolk. It wasn't a large city, by any means, but there were some eclectic shops and some very good restaurants downtown that the cast had come to appreciate. Rosalyn looked around curiously, as though she'd never seen a city as it looked in the light of day.

Rebekah pulled her into several stores, trying to gauge Rosalyn's interest in clothes, shoes, jewelry, or perhaps even art. So far, though, the dark-haired girl just looked around thoughtfully, and refused to do more than nod in return to Rebekah's comments.

As they wound their way through what she thought was a very cute clothing store, Rebekah decided she would have to be a little more aggressive. So far, they'd simply reversed roles, with Rosalyn following her around silently. She shuffled through the racks of clothing, not sure what she was looking for. All she knew was she needed something that would force the two of them to talk to one another.

After a few minutes, Rebekah came upon a dress that caught her attention. It was filmy and delicate, in shades of purple from lavender to rich plum. It was short, but not so short as to be too revealing. The top was fitted, with an empire waist and a skirt that flowed softly in a nice, A-line. Rebekah considered it, and then something occurred to her. She looked toward Rosalyn thoughtfully.

The other girl was studying the jewelry, specifically, the navel rings. Rosalyn was most likely considering how undeniably erotic one would look against the background of her perfect stomach. Rebekah took a deep breath and crossed the space between them.

She cleared her throat and, when Rosalyn turned, she said, "I have something you should try on."

Rosalyn raised an eyebrow as Rebekah produced the purple dress, "That's a bit girly, for me."

"Well…you're a girl, aren't you?" Rebekah threw back.

"You're not going to change me with a dress, Rebekah," Rosalyn answered flatly.

"I'm not trying to change you. I just think you might like it," Rebekah replied.

Rosalyn fingered the filmy fabric of the dress, which ran in such contrast to the dark, fitted layers she was wearing. After a minute, she conceded and took the dress from Rebekah.

"I'll try it on," Rosalyn snapped.

Rebekah couldn't resist a smile as she followed Rosalyn to the fitting rooms. Waiting outside one of the doors, Rebekah texted Landon while she waited. After a few minutes, Rosalyn carefully emerged. She stood there, looking a little uncertain.

Rebekah was amazed at the difference. Rosalyn had always been beautiful, but this dress toned it down to a demure, softer kind of beauty. Even without shoes, she looked lithe and delicate, and the color of the dress accented the contrast between her fair, olive skin and her thick, dark hair. It was a nice change from the blatant sexuality that Rosalyn typically wore like a scarlet letter. Rebekah pulled her over to a full length mirror.

As Rosalyn studied herself, Rebekah said, "I think it's nice. It's very feminine."

"I feel like a Barbie," Rosalyn joked harshly.

Rebekah rolled her eyes, "Barbie is blonde."

"They have ethnic Barbie," Rosalyn threw back, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Most girls would kill to look like any Barbie," Rebekah challenged gently.

"Yeah, that's what I want to look like...an Ethnic doll," Rosalyn chided.

Rebekah smiled, because this was almost a real conversation. At least, they sounded more like friends than they ever had.

"I don't usually pick stuff like this," Rosalyn fingered the tiny straps of the dress.

"Oh come on," Rebekah encouraged, "It's nice, especially if you do this." She pulled the claw clip from her own hair and proceeded to twist Rosalyn's locks up into a loose knot. She clipped it precariously and then looked at the effect in the mirror.

Rosalyn studied herself as well, seeing how the line of her neck and shoulders was quite delicate without all the hair. She rotated then, to see how it looked from the back. As Rosalyn turned in front of the mirror, both girls froze. Rebekah swallowed hard, because she clearly hadn't considered this.

Because the dress was cut lower in the back, with tiny straps that left Rosalyn's shoulders bare, the jagged scars across her back were visible. They stood out like a map of horrors on her slender body. Rosalyn stood there for a moment, her face a storm of emotions.

Then, she quickly pulled her hair loose and said, "Things like this aren't made for me."

Rebekah touched her arm, saying, "They're just scars, Rosalyn. No one has to know what they're from. In that dress, I doubt most people would even notice."

"You noticed," Rosalyn threw back.

"That's just because…"

"Look, I told you before. I am what I am. Just let it go. This is why I don't make friends…because no one can just deal with my reality," Rosalyn spat.

Rebekah swallowed hard as Rosalyn started to walk away.

She called after her, "Buy the dress, Rosalyn. You can leave your hair down or buy a shrug…but stop letting the scars defeat you."

Rosalyn smirked, "That's very trite."

Rebekah did not answer, but held Rosalyn's gaze, refusing to back down.

* * *

The following day was Christmas Eve. They still had a show, but Rebekah did a little shopping that morning. She found it a bit hard to get into the holiday spirit so far away from home. Her mind had been consumed with Rosalyn for more than two weeks now, and the holiday had snuck up on her. Landon had helped decorate their room a bit, and they went for a drive through Virginia Beach, which was beautifully decorated. Still, as was always the case, Rebekah missed home. She was a small-town girl at heart, and she always longed for home and family at Christmas. No matter how many times she'd been away or how often she traveled, her heart would always be in Collins.

For Rosalyn, however, Christmas was one long list of parties. She nagged at Rebekah to come out with her, and pouted when Rebekah insisted on staying in with Landon. Defeated, Rosalyn disappeared after the shows to every late night, holiday event with enough men and alcohol to keep her occupied. Rebekah stayed in her room, worrying. She exchanged gifts with Landon and snuggled in his arms, which made for a good holiday, but she knew he could see the concern in her eyes.

"She's a grown woman," was all he would say.

"I know," Rebekah answered, clinging to the man she loved and leaving her concerns unspoken.

* * *

One week later, the cast packed up again to move to the next city. Rebekah was especially excited, because their next stop was in Charlotte, North Carolina. The prospect of being in the same city with Hayleigh for nearly a month made her giddy with excitement. She looked forward to all the face to face time with her best friend, which had been a rarity over the past year. Also, since Norfolk was only a few hours from Charlotte, Rebekah had opted to rent a car and drive down with Landon. She was unable to contain her excitement and, on the way, she called Hayleigh.

When her friend answered, Rebekah squealed into the phone, "I'm on my way!"

Hayleigh giggled, "We sound like we're about twelve years old!"

"Well, it feels like that's how old we were the last time we lived in the same city!" Rebekah exclaimed.

"You still don't live here," Hayleigh teased.

"For a month, I do," Rebekah replied.

"So what do we do first?" Hayleigh asked, "I have rehearsal tonight…"

Rebekah considered, "How about lunch tomorrow? And then maybe some shopping."

"Definitely," Hayleigh answered, and Rebekah could hear the smile in her voice, "I hope it's okay if Maddelyn comes..."

"Absolutely," Rebekah reassured her friend.

When they hung up, Rebekah dropped her phone in her lap and did a very Galinda-like little dance of excitement. Landon shook his head, and couldn't help laughing.

* * *

The following morning, Rebekah was up, dressed, and ready long before lunch time. She was thrilled to have the entire day off, and was already thinking of the things she'd meant to tell Hayleigh. It was hard, she realized now more than ever, to be friends at such long distances.

Landon rolled his eyes as she watched him stumble to the shower long after she'd gotten dressed. Rebekah had asked him to come along as well, and he'd asked if Jacob could come. The two of them were becoming good friends, and Rebekah suspected Landon wanted another guy to talk to while she and Hayleigh acted like little girls. She'd agreed, because the idea of them all hanging out together had sounded like fun.

What Rebekah did not expect was the knock on her door shortly before they were supposed to leave that morning. When she opened it, Rosalyn stood there, dressed somewhat down in black yoga pants and a black hoodie.

Rosalyn asked, "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to go meet Hayleigh," Rebekah answered, confused.

"Oh," Rosalyn looked away and, for a second, Rebekah saw a hint of disappointment.

She struggled, because she realized very quickly that Rosalyn had hoped to have some company. For the first time since they'd met, Rosalyn had reached out for actual companionship. Rebekah was genuinely surprised. She didn't want to ruin her day with Hayleigh, but she also couldn't bring herself to turn Rosalyn away.

She took a deep breath and said, "Do you want to come with us? We're going to lunch."

"Who's going?" Rosalyn asked.

"Me, Landon, Hayleigh and Jacob."

Rosalyn bristled, "Why Jacob?"

"Because he's our friend," Rebekah answered curtly.

"You should be more selective with your friends," Rosalyn grumbled, half-teasing.

"I'm trying to be friends with you, aren't I?" Rebekah shot back, having learned that, with Rosalyn, she often had to fight sarcasm with sarcasm.

"Point taken," Rosalyn said dryly.

"Besides, Jacob's a nice guy," Rebekah argued.

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "He creeps me out."

"Yes…when a really nice guy thinks I'm gorgeous, that usually creeps me out," Rebekah laughed.

"He stares," Rosalyn answered.

"Rosalyn," Rebekah chuckled, "have you seen you? Do you look in your mirror? I'm lucky Landon's not staring..."

Rosalyn looked away.

Rebekah sighed, "Look, if you can kiss Jacob on stage every night, surely you can eat lunch with him."

Rosalyn chewed her lip and then conceded, "All right…fine."

So when they all piled into Landon's rented car, Rosalyn slid into the backseat next to Jacob. He looked more than a little surprised, but said nothing. Rosalyn kept her eyes forward and refused to even glance in his direction.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Rebekah bounced out of the car. She left the others behind to greet Hayleigh at the front door, and the two of them giggled and squealed.

As the others got out of the car and observed, Jacob said, "Wow…it's like I'm watching some sort of new species on the discovery channel…"

Rosalyn cut her eyes toward him and almost smiled, saying, "I have never screamed like that. Not once. In my entire life."

Jacob looked at her, "That's what makes you so awesome."

Rosalyn looked away then, refusing to acknowledge the compliment. Landon sensed the tension, and quickly led the way toward the restaurant. They followed Rebekah and Hayleigh, who were now oblivious to everyone around them.

Once they were seated at a large table, the others continued to stare at each other uncomfortably while Rebekah and Hayleigh talked. Normally, Landon and Jacob had no trouble getting along, but Rosalyn's presence was so unusual that neither was sure what to say.

After several minutes of tense silence, Landon asked Jacob, "Do you know if the other guy is coming back? To play Fiyero?"

Jacob shook his head, "I haven't heard yet. He messed up his leg pretty bad."

Rosalyn snorted, "It was pretty stupid, to be out jumping dirt bikes when you're in a touring production."

At the sound of Rosalyn speaking, Rebekah finally turned her head, as though she'd just remembered they had a fifth guest. Looking from Rosalyn to Jacob, she asked, "Who's pretty stupid?"

"Dominic," Rosalyn answered.

Rebekah rolled her eyes, and the atmosphere at the table calmed somewhat. Hayleigh stood then, seeing something out the window that caught her attention. She made her way back outside, and returned a minute later with a little girl in her arms. Rebekah helped pull up a highchair, and Hayleigh settled the little girl into it. The others were silent, watching.

Once they were settled, Hayleigh said to the others, "Everyone, this is Maddelyn."

Landon smiled and said, "She's grown a lot since I saw her last."

Maddelyn looked up at all of them with the wide eyes and round cheeks of a three year-old. Her light brown curls brushed her shoulders, and her skin was a shade darker than caramel. Her eyes were deep brown, and she smiled sweetly, belying how spirited she could be.

"She's beautiful," Jacob added.

Maddelyn spoke up, saying, "Thank you," in her tiny voice.

They all laughed, and the waiter came then to take their drink orders.

As he walked away, Rosalyn asked Hayleigh, "Is she biracial?"

"Rosalyn!" Rebekah snapped.

Rosalyn shrugged, "I'm biracial."

"Really?" Jacob asked, and then flushed when the others all looked at him.

Hayleigh shrugged it off, "It's fine. And yes, she is."

"I didn't know you had a child," Jacob said.

Hayleigh nodded, and smiled.

"Rebekah goes on about you, but didn't mention her," he added.

"A friend of mine was watching her for me while I went to Pilates this morning," Hayleigh explained, "I definitely need the workout."

They all fussed over Maddelyn a bit, and then placed their orders for food. While they were waiting, Hayleigh filled them in on her upcoming show, which was a modern take on the classical ballet _Swan Lake_.

"It's all pointe work," Hayleigh was explaining, "and it's one of the hardest things I've done recently. I hate leaving Maddie so much, but this piece is really stretching me."

As was her way, Rosalyn spoke up suddenly, "So where's her father?"

There was an awkward silence.

Hayleigh, in her typically unflappable way, explained, "He took off before she was born."

"Figures," Rosalyn grumbled, "So I guess he didn't want a kid?"

Hayleigh chuckled dryly, "I don't know that either one of us was ready, but I just couldn't give her up. Apparently, he could."

"If you weren't ready, why did you get pregnant?" Rosalyn plowed on.

Rebekah shot her a threatening glare, but Rosalyn was undeterred.

"I didn't _plan_ to get pregnant," Hayleigh said pointedly.

Rosalyn looked incredulous, "How do you accidentally get pregnant?"

"Rosalyn, come on…" Rebekah tried.

"Well," Rosalyn continued, "Birth control isn't exactly rocket science."

Rebekah saw Hayleigh's eyes flash and her posture change. As small as she was, Hayleigh was sharp-tongued and quite loud when angered. She retorted, "And clearly you would know, since you've been testing its _effectiveness _so very often and with such a varied range of…subjects."

Rosalyn's hands clutched the table, and Rebekah saw her struggle with her answer. Normally, Rosalyn would snap back with an equally scathing remark, but Rebekah caught her eyes. Silently, she pleaded with Rosalyn not to answer. After a moment, the dark-haired girl folded her arms and looked away.

Mercifully, their food arrived then, and Maddelyn took Hayleigh's attention by tossing french fries across the table. The others proceeded to make small talk, while occasionally glancing over at Rosalyn. She ate silently, staring at her plate. After what was assuredly one of the most awkward meals Rebekah had ever endured, they divided up the check and discussed what to do next.

Hayleigh was explaining where a new gallery had opened in uptown, when Rosalyn announced, "I really should just get back to the hotel."

Hayleigh pursed her lips, and Rebekah looked toward Landon.

In his typically helpful way, Landon suggested, "Why don't you let Jacob take the car? We can ride with Hayleigh and he can meet up with us later."

A fleeting look of panic crossed Rosalyn's face, and Rebekah gave her a pointed look, "I think that will work, and I trust Jacob entirely."

Rosalyn still looked unsettled, but she had very little choice if she wanted out of this awkward social situation. Rebekah understood her reservations, but she was also still angry with Rosalyn for being so blatantly rude. Realizing she had little choice in the matter, Rosalyn gathered her purse and coat, and set her face in a grimace as she followed Jacob from the restaurant. While she helped Hayleigh, Rebekah watched them go, hoping there would be no more fireworks that afternoon.

* * *

As Jacob drove the car back towards the hotel, he could barely maintain his focus on the road. He was hyper-aware of Rosalyn's presence beside him, and he very much wanted to say something. However, he could think of absolutely nothing about which to begin a conversation. He knew she hated idle chit chat, and he couldn't think of anything they had in common, other than the show.

Finally, he said, "Our performances have been going well."

Rosalyn nodded.

"Do you think this run will go as well as Norfolk?" he asked.

Rosalyn nodded again, still not looking at him.

"I'm sure they'll love you just as much," he tried again.

"Do we have to talk?" Rosalyn finally snapped.

Jacob was hurt, "I guess not…I just…"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "You're just in love with me, and you feel compelled to make random comments in hopes that I'll fall madly in love with you?"

Jacob was both horrified and embarrassed, "I…no…"

"Look," Rosalyn turned toward him, "you don't love me. You can't love someone you don't even know, and I promise you that getting to know me would only make you hate me. At best, you're physically attracted."

Jacob's face flushed.

"I understand, but there's plenty of other girls in the cast you can sleep with. Screw one of them and get it out of your system. If you have some sort of weird fetish, than make Megan dress up as Elphaba while you have sex. If you tell her she's beautiful, I'm sure she'll do anything. But just…stop staring at me."

There was a very long, very uncomfortable silence.

When Jacob could finally speak, he said, "Rosalyn…I don't…I mean it's not just…"

Rosalyn clutched at her hair in frustration as they slowed to a stop in front of their hotel, "Jacob, you can't even get out a complete sentence!"

There was another silence, and Rosalyn started to get out. Before she could open the door however, Jacob said, "When you sing, it speaks to me. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. Sure, it's physical…but there's more. I want…I want to make you feel safe."

Rosalyn hesitated for a moment, refusing to turn and look at him. When she finally turned around, her eyes were haunted as she said, "We can't always have what we want."

And then she was gone, and Jacob let out a shaking, discouraged breath.


	16. Chapter 16: Sinner and Saint

**Chapter 16: Sinner and Saint**

Later that evening, after a day of perusing uptown Charlotte and browsing a visiting exhibit of new artists, Rebekah and Hayleigh sat in Hayleigh's apartment. It was small, and a bit of a walk from her theater, but she'd been lucky enough to find it before rent had begun to skyrocket in the rapidly growing area. Jacob and Landon had returned to the hotel, to give them some 'girl time'. Maddelyn was tucked in her frilly, pink, princess-covered bed, and now the two girls were free to talk.

"Our theater is brand new," Hayleigh was explaining as she made coffee, "It's nice to finally have a space dedicated to the company. I mean, other people can lease it, but we have dibs."

"Dibs?" Rebekah giggled.

"You know what I mean," Hayleigh rolled her eyes.

"I haven't even seen my theater yet," Rebekah commented.

Hayleigh chuckled, "Yeah…your show goes across town to the big theater. There're more seats there."

"I feel so special," Rebekah joked in return.

"I guess it does kind of suck that your hotel is so far away from where you perform," Hayleigh added.

"A little, yeah, but they have a van for us. Landon and I have the car, though."

Hayleigh smiled as she sat cups of coffee on the table in front of the couch, "I almost can't believe you're really here for a month!"

"I know," Rebekah squeaked, "for once, we can be face-to-face friends!"

Hayleigh laughed, "I like that. 'Face-to-face' friends.

There was a quiet moment then, with both of them appreciating the time together.

"So…" Hayleigh started, and then paused, struggling a little with her next question, "will Rosalyn be joining us again soon?"

Rebekah caught the hint of sarcasm in her friend's voice and offered, "I'm really sorry for what she said today."

Hayleigh sighed, "It's okay, I guess. I think I was so angry because, in a way, I do blame myself a little for what happened with me and Tyler."

Rebekah shook her head as she sipped her coffee, "No, don't ever say that. He's a selfish loser."

"Yeah…but…I could've been more careful…"

"It's over and done now. I won't let you beat yourself up all over again," Rebekah argued.

"Thanks. I guess that's the one great flaw in growing up in a tiny, little, Baptist town…no one bothers to teach you the realities of sex," Hayleigh complained.

Rebekah looked at her hands, "Yeah…I can agree with that…"

There was a moment of silence, with each of them lost in their thoughts. Rebekah finally broke in, saying, "Rosalyn doesn't really mean to be so rude. I think…she just doesn't know how to talk to people. Especially girls…"

Hayleigh raised an eyebrow, "It's strange to hear you defending the girl you've hated for six years."

"I told you on the phone…she decided we should be friends," Rebekah stated.

"She decided?" Hayleigh looked incredulous.

"Yeah…when she started dragging me around to nightclubs."

"I thought that was driving you crazy?" Hayleigh asked.

Rebekah sighed, "Do you remember that night I told you about? When she sort of…had a breakdown?"

"Yes…and she talked to you, but whatever she said was so horrible you couldn't even tell me about it…your best friend…"

Rebekah ran a hand through her hair, "I know…we tell each other everything, but…"

Hayleigh set down her coffee cup and looked Rebekah in the eyes, "Becca…how long have we been friends?"

Rebekah looked thoughtful, "Ummm…about twenty-five years?"

"Has there ever been anything, other than the details of your sex life, that we haven't told each other?"

Rebekah blushed, "No."

Hayleigh pulled an elastic from her wrist and twisted her now longish hair back from her face, "I'm not asking you this because we're not allowed to have secrets. I love you enough to respect your privacy. I'm also not just looking for juicy gossip. But if Rosalyn's going to be coming around and behaving like…herself, I'm going to need to understand what her deal is. And you know you can trust me, completely."

Rebekah studied her hands for a moment, struggling, "It's just…it's a really hard thing to talk about. And it's not even my story…"

"So I'm guessing her being a straight-A student isn't her only secret?" Hayleigh asked.

Rebekah shook her head, "No…she…well…I don't even know where to begin…"

"Whatever happened must've been really terrible..." Hayleigh sounded genuinely concerned.

Rebekah looked down at her drink and then around at the walls. Finally, after a long pause, she started, "Rosalyn…well, she had good reason to shoot her father…"

"Yeah?" Hayleigh looked sympathetic.

"He…ummm…he was apparently…"

"Becca…" Hayleigh stopped her, "did he rape her?"

Rebekah looked at her cup again, "Yeah," she whispered, "like every day…for a year…"

There was another long silence, with both of them considering the horrific nature of what they were discussing.

Eventually, Rebekah continued, "She shot him because…he attacked her when she tried to resist him. She had a knife, and he used it against her. She has these awful scars and…you should have seen her that night, Hayleigh…she was curled up in the shower just…trembling…"

Hayleigh took another sip of coffee, "That is…awful."

Rebekah sighed, "I think…somehow…because of all that, she just can't communicate with people…"

"You mean, like…she stopped being able to relate to anyone without being obnoxious?"

"I don't know…I'm not sure that she ever really learned how to relate to anyone to start with. Her mother only speaks Spanish, and she seems like she might've been a bit shy…before all of this. I mean, she was pretty young..." Rebekah proposed, "She never told anyone what happened to her, before me. Not even her mother."

"Wow…" Hayleigh looked shocked, "She relates just fine to men, though…" she added.

"True…if you can call one-night stands relationships. And they're always older guys. She won't look twice at anyone in the cast, or anyone she has to spend any amount of time with," Rebekah explained.

Hayleigh looked thoughtful, "I'm sure there's some sort of sick logic behind it. She's probably not really looking for love."

"No, probably not. And I know I'm in over my head, but I want her to have a real friend…" Rebekah explained.

"Why does it matter so much to you?"

Rebekah considered, "I guess…well, imagine your life without me. Imagine you never had a close friend to confide in, never had anyone who you knew would be there when life went to crap. And then imagine you didn't have your family, either, and you have this horrible secret..."

Hayleigh's expression softened, and Rebekah could see compassion welling up with in her, "That would be terrible," she whispered.

"And, for some reason, she decided to confide this in me. It scares me, but how can I walk away from that? I mean…what if she never tells anyone again?"

Hayleigh considered, "That's true. She picked you, for whatever reason…"

"So…you'll help me?" Rebekah asked softly.

"I will do my best to be compassionate," Hayleigh conceded.

Rebekah smiled, "That's good enough."

"But if she tries to take my place as your best friend, I'll have to pound on her a little," Hayleigh teased.

Rebekah laughed, and said, "Never."

* * *

The following day, they reopened the show and, as was typical, Rosalyn was at Rebekah's dressing room door immediately after the show.

"Come on," Rosalyn ordered, "let's get autographs over with so we can go out."

Rebekah sighed, feeling very weary, "Really? Tonight?" she questioned.

It had been a long couple of days. With traveling, her day with Hayleigh, and then rehearsal that morning, Rebekah was exhausted.

"Yes," Rosalyn answered, looking impatient.

Rebekah paused for a moment, thinking. When she answered, she said, "Fine. I'll go out with you tonight...on one condition."

Rosalyn raised an eyebrow, "That I set the monkeys free?" she quipped.

Rebekah rolled her eyes, "No, _Miss Elphaba_. That you agree not to go out clubbing for the rest of this run. You can get coffee with me if you absolutely need something to do after the shows. And you have to eat lunch with me every other day."

Rosalyn looked annoyed, "So, we're bargaining now?"

"If that's what works," Rebekah challenged.

Rosalyn studied her, as though she were trying to determine both Rebekah's motive, and how likely she was to give in. After a moment, she said, "One week."

Rebekah shook her head, "Two weeks."

Rosalyn looked momentarily torn, as she wavered between the comfort of her vices and Rebekah's friendship. She finally answered, "Fine. Two weeks. That's all you get."

Rebekah smiled, and then added softly, "You do know…this means no guys, right?"

Rosalyn's expression darkened, but she only nodded.

* * *

So, for the next week, Rosalyn kept her word and faithfully returned to the hotel each night. She usually went straight to her room but, after the first few days, she accepted Rebekah's offer to sit up and have coffee. The two of them lingered in the hotel lounge, sipping drinks and barely talking. Still, Rosalyn seemed at least content.

It was a small victory for Rebekah, because she felt like she'd made a bit of progress. She hoped that, through these two weeks, Rosalyn might start to see that she didn't need an endless parade of sexual partners. She hoped Rosalyn might consider giving up what had to be a very destructive vice, or at least start to consider why she needed the vice to begin with. Rosalyn wasn't doing much talking, but Rebekah believed she appreciated having someone just sit with her.

Every couple of days, Rebekah also made Rosalyn keep her word and go to lunch. Usually, she brought Landon and Jacob along. Hayleigh came when she could, so that Rosalyn could keep experiencing what it felt like just to be with friends. Secretly, Rebekah also hoped that Rosalyn might, eventually, consider talking with Jacob. He seemed so genuinely kind, and Rebekah thought it might be good for Rosalyn to be around such a good-hearted man. So far, though, Rosalyn wasn't much for conversation. When they went out, she was generally quiet, chiming in only occasionally. From time to time, she would even smile. It was always an odd sight, for Rebekah, because she'd so rarely seen Rosalyn genuinely smile.

As the five of them grew closer, they all shared stories about their lives, and laughed at the things they had in common. Jacob had grown up in Ohio, in another tiny town that had a lot in common with Collins, Georgia. His hometown was flatter and colder, but his stories were quite similar to Rebekah and Hayleigh's. Landon had been raised just outside of Charlotte, but small-town life was very familiar to him, as well. They all had memories of little church-houses, county fairs, and old women with quick tongues and little else to do but gossip.

Rosalyn, however, stayed close-lipped, refusing to share anything about her life. She appeared to listen, though. She would watch each of them intently as they laughed about people they'd known and places they loved. When Rebekah and Landon retold the story of how they'd become lovers, she stared at them with the brooding look she'd so perfected. She studied Hayleigh, as she told Jacob about her pregnancy and Maddelyn's birth.

On a Thursday morning, a little more than a week hence, they all took Maddelyn to the park to enjoy a strangely warm, January day. The sky was bright and full of sun, and they could all get by with just a jacket. Having a warm day like this occured every now and then in the south, and they all took advantage of it. Overall, it was a good time, even for Rosalyn, who looked oddly peaceful.

As they sat around talking, Jacob did his share of staring at her, when he thought she didn't notice. As he talked about his family and his journey to joining _Wicked_, he watched her, hoping for a flicker of genuine interest in her face. Rosalyn's only reaction was to finally stop outright ignoring him, and listen blankly. The only time her eyes showed any real emotion was when he told how he'd grown up with just his mother, after his father had left them. Rebekah had held her breath, wondering if Rosalyn might show him some compassion. If she felt any, she refused to voice it, though. She just looked at Jacob with sad eyes and let him keep talking.

* * *

By the second week of Rosalyn's nightclub haitus, Rebekah considered inviting Cassie and some of the others out with she and Rosalyn. She hadn't been hanging out with them as often as she had before Norfolk, and she knew they resented it. She was still a bit wary, however, of exposing Rosalyn to them. They all thoroughly hated her, and wouldn't be easily convinced to feel otherwise. Rebekah couldn't very well explain to them why they should give their leading actress a second chance, and she knew Rosalyn wouldn't put much effort into making them like her. In the end, she settled for having lunch one afternoon with Cassie and her usual group, without Rosalyn. She wanted to make up for having ignored her friends, but she simply wasn't ready to defend Rosalyn.

As was expected, when they gathered at the restaurant, they all demanded to know why she'd befriended someone who'd treated them all so poorly.

Rebekah looked toward Jacob, who said nothing, and offered simply, "She needs a friend."

Cassie didn't look convinced, but after a few minutes, the others finally let it go. Rebekah let out a sigh as they sat down, and she tried to follow the conversation. Her mind quickly drifted, though, and she began to realize how disinterested she was becoming in idle gossip. It seemed that, suddenly, there were more important things in life than who might be leaving the show.

Rebekah rubbed her eyes as the others talked, trying to focus on being a good friend. Still, she was troubled. She'd certainly complicated her life, by trying to take on Rosalyn's problems. However, Rebekah would not give up. She knew her choice to befriend Rosalyn would not be easy, or popular. But then, popular was a game she was a bit tired of playing. Popular was a role that had never fit her very well. So, for Rosalyn, she would take the judgement of others, and press on.

* * *

The night, after the Friday show, Jacob worked up his courage to approach Rosalyn again. He knew nothing more about her now than he had a few weeks ago but, somehow, he felt closer to her. They'd all been out together enough times that they'd developed a certain level of comfort with each other, and he thought they might even be considered friends. He'd also begun to see Rosalyn's sullen mood as more of a quiet uncertainty than hateful indifference. He'd done enough talking around her that he hoped she might see him as a friend, rather than an annoying cast mate. He was still quite nervous, however.

After he'd changed clothes, Jacob made his way up the hallway and knocked on Rosalyn's dressing room door. She opened the door, and merely raised an eyebrow when she saw him. She had her long hair twisted up on top of her head, and she smelled like fresh soap and some sort of citrus body lotion. It all made Jacob's pulse race, and he watched her sit back down and work on removing her eye makeup with a pack of sponges.

After a moment, he started, "Rosalyn…we've been out to lunch a few times and…well, I hope you consider me a friend, now."

She met his eyes in the mirror, but didn't react.

"I was just wondering if you'd consider going to dinner with me. Just dinner. That's all," he asked carefully.

Rosalyn was very still, "As in, a date?"

"It can be whatever you want it to be. I would just…like a chance to get to know you," Jacob answered.

She turned to look at him, "Jacob…I can promise you, you don't know what you're asking. You don't want to know me."

Jacob was surprised, because this rejection was very different than her usual scathing insults, "I do, Rosalyn. I refuse to believe that you're as hard as you pretend to be."

Rosalyn's expression darkened, "We've been to lunch several times. Isn't that enough?"

"That was with other people. I just want to talk to you," Jacob argued.

"No…you want to sleep with me," Rosalyn shot back.

Jacob sighed, "Why do you have to do that? I'm not a jerk, Rosalyn. I'm not looking for an easy, one-night stand."

"Then what business do you have with me?" Rosalyn asked darkly.

Jacob was shocked, once again, but he recovered, "I care about you. You're my friend, I think. I just want a chance to know you. Just, let me buy you dinner. Once."

Rosalyn shook her head, "No."

"Why?" Jacob demanded.

"Because you need to stay away from me. If Rebekah brings you to lunch, fine, but that's it. I'm not what you want, Jacob."

After a very quiet pause, he asked, "How do you know that?"

Rosalyn looked away for a moment, and then turned back, saying, "Please don't make me be hateful again. Please just go."

Jacob was so surprised at the pleading in her voice, and the indirect admission that her hatefulness was often a ruse, that he couldn't think of a response. He stood there, not speaking, until Rosalyn gathered her things and left him alone.

* * *

The following morning, Rebekah got to the theater early. She wanted to use the rehearsal studio for a brief ballet workout before she grabbed lunch. Their call time was one-thirty, and she thought she had just enough time to get both things in before then. As she entered the building and started to turn right towards the studio, she heard something in the theater. Turning around, Rebekah made her way through the dark, left wing of the stage and peered through the heavy, black curtains. The stage was dim, lit only by a few of the fluorescent work lights. The effect was always strange, since she was so used to seeing the clockwork staging bathed in the brilliant, gold and green lights in performance.

At center stage sat Rosalyn, humming along with her IPod. Her eyes were closed, and she looked almost meditative. Rebekah approached slowly and sat down next to her, trying not to startle Rosalyn. When she finally realized she wasn't alone, Rosalyn smiled a little and paused her music.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," Rebekah answered, "I just saw you in here by yourself. Are you okay?"

Rosalyn considered, "Yeah. I like to come here and think. I'm comfortable here."

Rebekah looked around at the darkened house and the odd stillness of the stage. There seemed to be some sort of strange irony that Rosalyn felt comfort in a theater devoid of all the things that usually made it appealing. She was sitting at center stage, but there was no applause, no adoration, or spotlight. Still, there was comfort in the potential for magic.

"What are you listening to?" Rebekah asked.

"My song," Rosalyn said.

Rebekah looked curious, and Rosalyn handed her the IPod. She took it and held one of the ear buds up to her ear, then pressed play. Immediately, Rebekah recognized the song. It was the same song Rosalyn had played in their room so many years ago, when she was trying to force Rebekah to leave. The lyrics were still shocking, even when Rebekah knew what to expect.

_I hate the world today,  
You're so good to me, I know but I can't change,  
Tried to tell you,  
But you look at me like maybe I'm an angel underneath,  
Innocent and sweet.  
Yesterday I cried,  
You must have been relieved to see the softer side.  
I can understand how you'd be so confused,  
I don't envy you.  
I'm a little bit of everything  
all rolled into one._

_I'm a bitch, I'm a lover,_  
_I'm a child, I'm a mother,_  
_I'm a sinner, I'm a saint,_  
_I do not feel ashamed._  
_I'm your hell, I'm your dream,_  
_I'm nothing in between,_  
_You know you wouldn't want it any other way._

Rebekah paused the song, her expression concerned, "Why is this your song?"

Rosalyn cocked her head, "Because…it describes me."

"But why would you want to be called something so negative?"

"Are you arguing that's it's not true?" Rosalyn returned.

"I guess not. But…you don't have to be a bitch," Rebekah argued softly.

Rosalyn shook her head, "But that's not all she is. That's not the point. She's all of these things. It's just…the first one is what everyone focuses on. It's the most shocking. It's easier to be a bitch…"

Rebekah was very quiet, feeling a bit stunned at the open honesty with which Rosalyn had spoken.

Rosalyn sighed, "Everyone likes people who are all roses and sunshine. It's harder to love the people who are…not."

Again, Rebekah wasn't sure what to say. Finally, she whispered, "I suppose it's okay, sometimes, to be a bitch. I know I feel like it…every now and then…"

Rosalyn smiled, "You should try it. Just once in a while."

Rebekah laughed a little, and gave the IPod back

There was a long pause, and then Rosalyn added, "The song also helps me get ready for this show. It gets me into character."

"Really?" Rebekah was curious.

"Yeah. I mean…this is Elphaba. She wants to be good, but she's got so much frustration inside of her. And she turns to wickedness because good is so impossible, sometimes. I mean, think about it, a 'sinner and a saint'? She's named after a saint, but she's an adulteress and murderer…it just works…"

Rebekah was again surprised at the depth of Rosalyn's analyzation. Rosalyn stuck the IPod back into her bag and rummaged around for a minute. She finally produced a worn, paperback book. It was another copy of _Wicked_, although it was much older and more used than Jacob's copy.

Showing it to Rebekah, Rosalyn said, "I have read this so many times. I know this character so well…"

"I've only read it once," Rebekah admitted, "But I know Jacob loves it."

Rosalyn refused to acknowledge him, asking, "Do you want know why I love this role?"

"Sure," Rebekah said softly.

"Because Elphaba is so imperfect. She's so raw and real, and she goes at everything with such passion. She's lonely and unusual, but she attracts certain people anyway. And she makes no apologies. She is what she is, and there's no changing it."

Rebekah held her breath, afraid even to speak. She didn't want to shatter this very fragile moment when Rosalyn willingly exposed herself, allowing Rebekah to see the real person beneath her chilly exterior.

After another moment, Rosalyn continued, "That's what people see, when I perform this part. They see how much I believe in this character. That's why they love me."

"You are wonderful," Rebekah whispered carefully.

Rosalyn looked down at the book in her hands, and appeared to struggle. Eventually, she looked into Rebekah's eyes, "I read this book when it first came out…when I was thirteen…"

Rebekah swallowed, because she understood immediately what Rosalyn was implying.

"I feel for Elphaba," Rosalyn now looked far away, "because she has to keep on living, even after everything goes to hell…"

Rebekah very much wanted to hug Rosalyn, but she was still hesitant. Their relationship was still too new. Instead, she carefully reached out and took her hand. It was one of the first times they'd ever touched, and Rosalyn flinched a little, but did not pull away.

"I guess her only flaw is that she buys into the premise that having a lover is some sort of anesthetic for all of it."

"What do you mean?" Rebekah asked carefully.

Rosalyn sighed, "Her relationship with Fiyero is over-romanticized. At best, she used Fiyero to make herself feel more powerful."

"No," Rebekah disagreed, "she loved Fiyero."

Rosalyn shook her head, "She slept with Fiyero. And at best, sex is a distraction."

"Have you ever listened to what you're singing during _As Long as You're Mine_?" Rebekah asked incredulously.

"Again…over romanticized," Rosalyn stated.

"But…even in the book, she's devastated when Fiyero dies," Rebekah tried.

"Only because she's responsible for his death," Rosalyn argued.

"No…I think it's because she truly loved him. Don't you remember _City of Emeralds_?"

Rosalyn shrugged, "Maybe for Fiyero, or men in general, it's all fire and flowery images, but not for me. I think sex is overrated."

Rebekah was floored, "Then…why…why are you constantly…I mean, when we lived together…"

Rosalyn clenched her fists and looked tormented, as though she were deciding whether to answer. After some time, she admitted hesitantly, "The men...it's not about pleasure, Rebekah. I control them, and then I get rid of them. Just like he did to me…"

Rebekah was so shocked she felt like she'd been slapped. She'd suspected such an ugly truth, but hearing Rosalyn admit it made it so much more tragically sad. She watched Rosalyn for a moment, as she fidgeted with the book in her lap. Then, something occurred to her.

Taking a deep breath, Rebekah asked, "Rosalyn…please don't storm out when I ask this, because I know this is personal, but…have you ever…have you ever slept with someone…and enjoyed it?"

There was a long pause, with Rosalyn studying her hands and refusing to look up. After a long time, she finally said, "No."

Rebekah took a breath, understanding more clearly now why Rosalyn wasn't interested in Jacob. She had no reason to be interested. She not only rejected his physical attraction toward her, she had no understanding of it.

"Then…how do you sing _As Long As You're Mine_?" Rebekah asked in disbelief.

Rosalyn smirked sadly, "I'm an actor."

"But...all those times that you made fun of me, and teased me for not knowing what it was like to love someone?"

"I suppose," Rosalyn whispered, "that was my way of controlling you."

Rebekah didn't respond, but just sat there for some time, feeling terribly sad. She was grateful to have stumbled into this quiet moment of real connection with Rosalyn, but now there was yet another abyss of molten trouble beneath the surface of Rosalyn's painful life. Rebekah knew very little about sexual dysfunction, but she knew it wasn't easily overcome. She was certain it must be awful, to have been with so many men and have felt absolutely nothing. She couldn't even be angry with Rosalyn, for her last admission. So she just sat there, holding onto Rosalyn's hand, while words escaped her.

* * *

After the matinee that afternoon, Jacob stopped by Rebekah's dressing room. The rest of the cast had gone to grab dinner, and they were both running late. Jacob knocked on the doorframe, and then cleared his throat.

"Hey," Rebekah said distractedly, "I'm coming."

"Can I ask you something?" Jacob said despondently.

"Sure."

"Am I annoying?"

Rebekah smiled, "No. You're a little whiny, but you're sweet. Why?"

Jacob sighed, "I tried to ask out Rosalyn again. I thought, after we'd been around each other so much, she might change her mind. But she won't even have dinner with me. Even as friends."

Rebekah chewed her lip, struggling with her answer. She believed Jacob was a genuinely good person, and that Rosalyn could benefit from his friendship, but she didn't want to get his hopes up.

"Jacob…I think…it might be better if you just, try to be her friend. I don't think it's you, but I don't think she's willing to go out with anyone right now. There's just a lot of issues there. I think what she needs more than anything is for a good guy like you to show her that you can be her friend. Just…show her that you care. Don't ask her out directly." Rebekah suggested.

Jacob listened, and then looked at her for a moment, "There's a lot more to this than I know about, isn't there?"

Rebekah nodded slowly.

After a moment, he said, "You can tell me, Rebekah. I'm trustworthy."

She shook her head, "No. Not this, Jacob. Just be her friend, okay?"

Jacob eventually nodded, but his usually bright eyes were tormented.

* * *

Lyrics:

_I'm A Bitch, I'm a Lover, _Meredith Brooks


	17. Chapter 17: Hallelujah

**Chapter 17: Hallelujah**

The following morning, Jacob decided to expend some energy by visiting the gym on the first floor of the hotel. It was small, but would get the job done. He was deciding between the treadmill and the free weights when a voice from behind startled him.

"You look about as enthusiastic as I feel," Landon said with a laugh.

Jacob turned, "Yeah, some days I would just rather sit in front of the TV."

Landon chuckled, "I'm afraid I may have made that choice a few too many times in my life."

"I probably would, too, but I keep reminding myself that I have to be onstage in a very fitted pair of pants every night," Jacob added, referring to his Fiyero costume.

Landon laughed again, "I guess that's true. So what will it be, lifting heavy stuff or running?"

Jacob ran a hand through his hair and headed for the treadmill, "I'm partial to running. I can think when I run."

Landon nodded in agreement, and for the next forty-five minutes they worked up a sweat and said very little. Finally, Landon switched off the treadmill and wiped his face down with a towel. Pulling out a bottle of water, he unscrewed the top and took a swig.

As Jacob followed suit, Landon asked, "So…how's the all-consuming crush on Rosalyn coming along?"

"Awesome," Jacob threw out sarcastically, "I should be ready to scream any day now."

Landon shook his head, "I feel for you. I was in love with Becca for a long time before we ever got together," he paused, "I didn't realize it, though. So I guess that's not really the same…"

Jacob took another drink of water, "I appreciate the sentiment."

"Not a problem. I've never been all that great at the advice…" Landon struggled.

"That's Rebekah's department?" Jacob asked with a smirk.

"Yeah," Landon agreed, "she's been taking on hopeless cases since she was a kid. She and Hayleigh have a story about how she was in the newspaper once for rescuing a kitten from floodwater. She's soft-hearted."

"I can understand that," Jacob mused, "but I don't think Rosalyn is a hopeless case."

Landon studied him for a moment, "I don't know. I've known her since freshman year. She's always been pretty awful to everyone."

"Has she ever had any other friends?"

"Not that I remember. She just tolerated the rest of us, and bit our heads off during shows. The directors loved her, though, because she could play anything," Landon answered.

Jacob smiled a little, "I can believe that. So, Rebekah's the only person she's ever really talked to?"

"I guess."

"That has to mean something. And from what I can tell, she must have told Rebekah something important. I mean, the way they suddenly started acting like friends…"

Landon struggled with what to say, "Yeah…I think so."

"I know I sound crazy, obsessing like this. Truthfully, I've been told that I think like a girl so many times…" Jacob sighed.

Landon looked him over, "I'm not gonna lie to you. This isn't the most masculine conversation I've ever had. But then, I've been hit on by guys more times than I'd like to admit."

"Seriously?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah…in school, that's how I met my friend Chase. I guess it's my look. I'm a little eccentric and I've always taken dance classes. I don't really blame the guys. It's always a compliment to be hit on. I'm just lucky that being dark-haired and pale has become sexy again. With girls," Landon joked.

"Don't get me started on that," Jacob rolled his eyes.

Landon shrugged, "I take what I can get."

Jacob was quiet for a moment, and then confessed, "I grew up with just my mom, so I guess I never learned that obnoxious, macho thing. I've never been all that…smooth."

"Believe me, very few of us are," Landon laughed, "I'm just lucky I have Becca."

There was a comfortable silence then, with neither of them speaking for a few moments.

Landon looked thoughtful, and then offered, "I think I understand your situation, a little. When I was a sophomore, I was madly in love with this girl named Kathryn. She was gorgeous and talented. She was also working her way through sleeping with most of the theater department. We dated for a while but, at that point, she wasn't ready to give up the other guys. She cheated a couple times and we fought like crazy. It was pretty bad, overall…"

Jacob looked troubled, "I guess you're saying that's probably where I'm headed with Rosalyn?"

Landon chose his words carefully, "Maybe. I guess it depends on what you want. If it's just a physical thing, then I might say to sleep with her and get it out of your system. I used to think she deserved that…"

"But…?" Jacob caught the hesitation.

Landon sighed, "I don't know. I'm really not sure this will end well, no matter what you do. I'm certainly no saint, but I think just using her and walking away would be wrong. But I also don't think she's going to fall in love with you."

Jacob scrutinized Landon for a long moment, "I have the feeling that everyone knows something they're not telling me. In fact, I'm certain Rebekah does."

Landon ran a hand through his hair again, "She tells me everything," he admitted, "but it's not something I can share."

Jacob looked frustrated, "I think if I knew a little bit of Rosalyn's story, I might be able to relate to her. Maybe she'd at least call me her friend."

"I don't think you can relate to this," Landon said.

"I don't know...my childhood was no picnic," Jacob grumbled.

Landon looked torn. Finally, he said, "Look, if I tell you any part of what Rebekah told me, and Rosalyn finds out, it's over for you two. Any measure of friendship you have right now will be gone. And it would ruin Rebekah's chances of ever getting Rosalyn to open up. I don't think Rosalyn's the type who would appreciate being talked about behind her back."

"Then how will I ever relate to her?"

Landon paused before answering, "Are you sure you're in love with her, Jacob? You don't really even know her."

"As ridiculous as this sounds, I will _never_ get her out of my head," Jacob answered.

"Then get to know her. Find anything you have in common and work on that. That's the best advice I know," Landon offered, and then added, "but don't be aggressive. Don't push her, okay?"

Jacob nodded, and his stomach turned a little. He was a fairly intuitive person, and Landon had inadvertently hinted at the nature of Rosalyn's troubles. Jacob couldn't say with certainty what might have happened to her, but the use of the word 'aggressive' gave him a clue. It made him realize that now, more than ever, he had to sort out his feelings. He needed to know if this was merely a crush, or if he was willing to love someone with so many hidden demons. He was at the crossroads where love becomes a choice. If Rosalyn ever allowed herself to feel for him, was he willing to love her through whatever scars she might be hiding? Was he that strong? Or should he walk away and let his fickle heart find an easier path. Certainly, there were women out there he could fall in love with who were warm and compassionate. As smitten as he was, Jacob understood that he could walk away. He could find an easier relationship and be very happy. He'd nursed this crush for long enough, and it was time to choose.

_Love is a choice,_ he remembered something his mother had once said, _Lust comes easily, but we choose to love. And it is truest when we are the most unlovable._

Jacob thought it over long after Landon had left. His emotions rolled and tumbled, and easy answers would not come.

* * *

Late into the night, when it was nearly dawn and he could not sleep, Jacob made his choice. Rosalyn was worth fighting for. She was beautiful and complex, and she deserved to be loved. If Rebekah was not willing to give up on her, then neither could he. If nothing else, she deserved more than one friend who respected her.

So, for the next two weeks, Jacob talked. Every time he was around Rosalyn, he filled the awkward silences when she refused to speak with words. He talked about his home, his mother, his lack of siblings, his hobbies, his relatively unexciting time in school, and anything else he could come up with.

Most of the time, he could tell she was annoyed with him. She often cut him withering looks while he rambled on. Rosalyn did not, however, shoot him down and walk away. Granted, they were usually with Rebekah, but Jacob knew that wouldn't have stopped her from storming out if she'd wanted to. For whatever reason, she tolerated him, and he talked.

It was a long shot, but he hoped that, eventually, he would hit on a topic Rosalyn would find interesting. Jacob had given in and decided that Rebekah and Landon were both right. His only hope of ever breaking through Rosalyn's icy exterior was through friendship. The only way he knew to build a friendship was to find something they had in common, other than the show. So he talked. And finally, near the end of their run in Charlotte, he drew a response from Rosalyn.

On their last Sunday night before traveling again, they all gathered at a restaurant for dinner. The rest of the cast had gone out dancing, but Rebekah was still trying to keep Rosalyn from that scene. So she, Jacob, Landon, Hayleigh, and Rosalyn sat around a small table together.

As they ate, Jacob was talking yet again, "I love to play…the piano, the guitar, almost anything really. My mother insisted that I have lessons if I wanted to be a performer. I hated it, at first, but she was right."

Rosalyn's head perked up, and her eyes trained on him for the first time that night.

Jacob noticed, and continued, "This little old woman named Mrs. Nederman used to come to our house and make me play _Mary Had a Little Lamb_ over and over again on the piano. It was awful."

Rosalyn raised an eyebrow and considered him. Then she asked, "Did you ever get past that?"

Jacob laughed, "Yeah. I do all right, now."

"Prove it," Rosalyn said, sipping her drink.

Jacob was stunned, "What?"

Rosalyn jerked her head toward the piano in the corner, "Prove it."

Jacob looked around, wondering what the odds were that he would tell that story in this particular restaurant. It was a vintage piano bar that had been renovated recently. The process was not yet complete, and so business was quite slow. There were only a handful of patrons, other than their group, and the piano was pushed to the corner so the stage could be resurfaced. Jacob looked over at the dusty instrument, wondering if it was even slightly in tune. He crossed the room and dusted off the keys. Then, he played a few scales, to see how it sounded.

It was surprisingly accurate, and had a good, rich sound. He guessed it was a nice instrument, when it wasn't covered in dust. He sat down and thought for a moment, and looked around for any employee that might have an objection. The one bartender smiled and nodded, so Jacob considered what to play. After a minute, he haltingly began to work his way through an old favorite. He wasn't much for classical, when it came to music. So the song he played was more rock than Beethoven, but it was still complex. Without any other instruments to back him up, the song was all the more haunting. Jacob sang as he played.

_Sitting here wasted and wounded  
At this old piano.  
Trying hard to capture the moment  
This morning, I don't know.  
'Cause a bottle of vodka  
Is still lodged in my head,  
And some blonde gave me nightmares,  
I think that she's still in my bed,  
As I dream about movies  
They won't make of me when I'm dead._

_With an ironclad fist, I wake up_  
_And French kiss the morning,_  
_While some marching band keeps  
Its own beat, in my head  
While we're talking,  
About all of the things that I long to believe,  
About love and the truth,  
And what you mean to me,  
And the truth is,  
Baby you're all that I need._

_I want to lay you down on a bed of roses,_  
_For tonight I sleep on a bed of nails._  
_I want to be just as close as, your Holy Ghost is,_  
_And lay you down,  
On a bed of roses._

Jacob continued to play, working his way through another verse and the chorus again. He played with passion and well-trained technique, and his voice carried easily in the small space. He glanced up occasionally, to see the others watching him. Specifically, he tried to watch Rosalyn. He knew he was singing for her, and he was sure the others knew it, too. Jacob knew it was risky, to try to communicate with her through a song. Somehow, though, it seemed easier. Music could say things so much more eloquently than he ever could.

When he finally finished, there was a smattering of applause, and he took an impromptu bow. Rosalyn gave no indication of being upset or offended, but she watched him closely. As he sat back down, he asked her, "Did that prove it?"

She nodded, as the others expressed their surprise that he played so well.

"That's not an easy song to do, without a band to back you up," Landon stated.

Jacob shrugged, "It's cathartic, I guess, to play. I used to spend hours at the piano. It kept me out of trouble, when I was a kid," he paused, "Obviously, I was not a very cool kid."

The others laughed, and Rosalyn surprised them by speaking up, "You're good. And I can appreciate the song, if not for its sentiment, but for its complexity," she paused and studied Jacob, "It's a terrible thing, to love someone who can never love you in return."

There was a tangible silence at the table as Jacob stared into Rosalyn's eyes. She stared back, resolute.

After a moment, Jacob said, "Love unreturned is still love. It's still real, even if you ignore it."

Rosalyn said nothing, but her expression flickered. In the moment, Jacob saw more in her eyes than he'd seen in the past four months. In their depths, he saw the fear. It made his breath catch, and he had to force himself not to reach out and touch her. The others were quiet for some time, until the tension was palpable and Landon broke it with a joke.

The others laughed and moved on, but Jacob held onto the moment, hoping.

* * *

Later that night, Rebekah bade Hayleigh a tearful farewell at the hotel. It was their last night in Charlotte, and the next tour stop would be in Nashville.

"That's like…eight hours away," Hayleigh pouted.

"I know," Rebekah sighed, "but we've done this before."

"Yeah…" Hayleigh whispered.

They both wiped away tears and clung to each other for several minutes.

"At least you have Landon for this tour," Hayleigh added.

"That's true," Rebekah admitted, feeling a twinge of sadness for her best friend. After a minute, she said, "There's somebody out there for you, Hayleigh. Somebody who loves children and dancers."

Hayleigh smiled, "I know, but even then, I'll still miss _you_."

Rebekah hugged her one more time, and then promised to call from Nashville. Then, she watched Hayleigh until her car disappeared into the darkness. She felt an abiding sadness, even having been separated from her friend so many times before. Travel was always hard for her.

After standing there for another moment, Rebekah took a deep breath and turned to go back to her room. The lobby was quiet, and a bit chilly on this January night. Noticing that someone had lit the fireplace in the common area, she crossed to it before going upstairs.

As she warmed her hands, someone said, "I thought you'd be sad."

Rebekah turned to see Rosalyn sipping coffee in one of the overstuffed chairs.

"Were you waiting for me?" she asked incredulously.

Rosalyn shrugged.

"You were, weren't you?"

Again, Rosalyn shrugged.

Rebekah smiled, "After all, we are friends, right?"

Rosalyn sipped her coffee, but there was a smile in her eyes.

Rebekah was more than pleased, and sat down. They stayed that way for a few minutes, lost in their thoughts.

After a time, Rebekah felt the need to say, "This is what friends do, you know? Waiting here for me like that…that's real friendship."

Rosalyn drummed her fingers on her cup and said nothing. Eventually, she responded, "Do you play?"

"What?" Rebekah was confused.

"The piano," Rosalyn explained, "Do you play?"

Rebekah was baffled, as usual, by Rosalyn's conversational tactics. Still, she answered, "Some, yes. I'm not great."

Rosalyn looked around, thinking.

"Why?" Rebekah finally asked.

Rosalyn was hesitant, "I just…I used to do that. You know…play and sing for hours, by myself. Like Jacob was talking about earlier…"

Rebekah held her breath, considering her words carefully. This was the first time Rosalyn had mentioned Jacob, or anyone else for that matter, in a positive way. She didn't want to ruin it. Hesitantly, she said, "I think you have more in common with Jacob than you realize."

Rosalyn's expression became guarded, "Maybe."

Rebekah thought for another moment, and then suggested, "Why don't you meet somewhere and play together? It might be fun…"

"No," Rosalyn stated.

"Come on…it's just the piano. You're both performers. It would be like rehearsal."

"No."

Rebekah sighed, "He won't bite, Rosalyn. He's the most harmless guy I know."

"He's in love with me," Rosalyn stated flatly.

"So? He won't do anything about it," Rebekah argued.

Rosalyn pressed her lips into a thin line and said nothing, her eyes troubled.

"Look Rosalyn, he just wants to be your friend. Honestly."

"No, he doesn't," Rosalyn snapped.

Rebekah sighed, "All right, fine. Yes, he has a crush on you, but that doesn't mean he can't be your friend. _You_ get to choose how you relate to him."

Rosalyn chewed her lip, thinking.

"There's nothing wrong with having a friend who's a guy, Rosalyn. Landon and I were friends for years. I know you don't believe this, but they're not all just trying to sleep with you."

Rosalyn didn't answer. She studied her hands, pensive

"Look, we're going to Nashville tomorrow. There must be about a million piano bars there. And every other kind of music. You and Jacob could play a duet somewhere. The two of you might have fun," Rebekah pressed.

Rosalyn still looked skeptical, "I'm not going anywhere with just him."

Rebekah looked into Rosalyn's eyes, "He's just another person, Rosalyn. And he's not so different from you. He grew up with just his mom, and he's a little reserved, offstage. He hasn't had the best of luck with relationships. And he loves music," she paused, "Don't miss out on a wonderful friendship just because you're not in love with him."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "Friendship is overrated."

"Is it really?" Rebekah snapped, "Because, after my family, my friends are my lifeline. And I refuse to believe that you would like to go back to being alone, without me and Landon…and Jacob."

Rosalyn looked away, and there was a long a moment of silence. When she finally spoke, she sounded far away, "You know, when I was in High School, my mother made me go down to the altar in church every Sunday and repent silently for what I did. She would repeat 'thou shalt not kill' over and over again. She also refused to let anyone into our house, ever, because she was afraid they would find out our secret. It wasn't really a place where you could have friends…"

Baffled by Rosalyn's change of topic, but still compassionate, Rebekah said, "You defended yourself, Rosalyn. You picked up a gun to defend yourself. You were the victim. And you deserve friends…even Jacob, if you want."

Rosalyn looked away again, but did not disagree.

* * *

The following week was a blur, as they traveled to a new venue and began a new run of shows. It was chaotic, as always, but Rebekah felt like they were reaching their stride with the tour. The developing friendship between herself, Rosalyn, and even Jacob, was showing on stage. When they performed _Popular_, Rebekah was no longer afraid to play with Rosalyn, as well as with her choreography. No longer fearing a fight afterwards, she flung her co-star around quite frequently. Rosalyn played back to her, occasionally even ad-libbing a gesture or two. They were a good team, and they'd finally moved beyond the technical. There was chemistry now, which made the audiences love them all the more.

In spite of her protests, Rebekah could also tell that Rosalyn and Jacob were working better together on stage. Whether Rosalyn wanted it or not, they had their own chemistry, if only because they'd simply been around each other so often. Rebekah could see that Rosalyn had let down her barriers just a bit. Although Rebekah knew it was mostly a façade, the Elphaba/Fiyero duet was one of the best she'd seen, and she began to hope that Dominic would not return and ruin it.

Being in Nashville also provided them with an endless selection of entertainment. It was hard to go back to the hotel and sleep at night when the streets were always alive with music. Even Rebekah found herself accepting the invitations to go to the clubs and hear local bands. There was an endless parade of choices, from bluegrass to rock, to old-fashioned country. The cast was having a blast exploring the venues, and Rebekah finally worked up the courage to ask Rosalyn to come along. One Thursday night, she extended an invitation to go out with herself, Cassie, and several others.

Rosalyn gave no answer at first, and then finally said, "I'll think about it."

Considering that response to be enough of a victory for the moment, Rebekah smiled and said, "We'll be two blocks north, at the obnoxiously loud place on the corner."

Rosalyn smirked, and nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, Rebekah was seated in a chair a crowded place called _Shenanigans._ It was both a performance venue and a karaoke bar, and that night, the patrons were taking turns singing and playing. The performers ranged from local musicians who brought their guitars and original songs, to slightly drunk students who sang off-key. The cast quickly joined in, exploiting their talents for the sake of fun. Stephen convinced a rock star-wannabe to let him borrow his electric guitar, and he worked his way through a decent rendition of an old Nirvana song. Cassie and some of the other girls sang, and Jacob did another turn on the piano. It was a good time, and Rebekah had nearly forgotten she'd invited Rosalyn, when Stephen started poking her in the ribs.

"Look," he said in her ear.

Rebekah turned towards the door to see Rosalyn standing there, dressed in black and surveying the scene. Shocked, Rebekah finally recovered enough to wave her over to the table. Rosalyn raised an eyebrow and hesitantly crossed the room. The others grew silent, in spite of the cacophony around them, as Rosalyn sat down.

"I'm glad you came," Rebekah offered, and the others said nothing.

Rosalyn ordered a drink, and the others began to turn away and whisper among themselves. Stephen quickly grew tired of it and rolled his eyes, but Jenna and Misty continued to gossip. After another minute, Rebekah finally said to them, "Seriously, what is it? Does this really have to be such a big deal?"

Jenna smirked, "We were just wondering why she's gracing us with her presence," she nodded toward Rosalyn.

Misty looked annoyed, "Just tell her to go on and get up there and show us all up. Let her do an encore of _Defying Gravity_ and then rub it in our faces."

"This isn't a contest," Rebekah said through clenched teeth.

"Whatever," Jenna rolled her eyes.

Rebekah turned back to Rosalyn, who was eavesdropping quite effectively. Her dark eyes were flashing, but she held her tongue. She sipped her drink, when it arrived, and said nothing. Getting no response, Jenna finally turned away.

Finally, after a rather horrific karaoke rendition of _The Climb_ by a middle-aged woman, Rosalyn stood. She crossed the room and spoke to the man taking karaoke requests, and he smiled. To Rebekah, and most everyone's, surprise, she then took a seat at the piano.

Rosalyn began a slow, lilting piece that quieted the mood and drew all eyes toward her. Her fingering was exquisite, and she closed her eyes as she played. Rebekah cut her eyes toward Jacob, wondering if he'd guessed at the significance of what Rosalyn was doing. After another few bars, Rosalyn began to sing.

_Baby I've been here before,  
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor,  
I used to live alone before I knew you.  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch,  
And love is not a victory march,  
It's a cold and it is a broken Hallelujah._

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

_I did my best, it wasn't much,  
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch,  
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you,  
And even though it all went wrong,  
I'll stand before the Lord of Song,  
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah._

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

Rosalyn's voice was rich and strong, and yet hauntingly ethereal at the same time. The performance was an incredible contradiction to how she'd belted out her songs just hours earlier. The other cast members at the table gradually drew silent as they watched their leading actress play and sing. Their faces were still skeptical, but Rebekah could tell this was not what they expected. She held her breath and wondered what exactly Rosalyn was trying to say. She wondered if this was some sort of apology, or a veiled explanation. If nothing else, Rebekah was certain that, if they cared to look, they could all see a sliver of Rosalyn's tormented soul.

_Maybe there is a god above,  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.  
And it's not a cry that you hear at night,  
And it's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it is a broken Hallelujah._

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

By the time the last notes slipped from Rosalyn's fingers, the place was almost entirely silent. The simple song was so rich with meaning that it couldn't help but wrestle a reaction from everyone. Rosalyn was lost in it, her eyes still closed, and she startled when the crowed erupted in applause.

Recovering, she stood, and reverted to dry humor, "Thank you. You can find me every night at Andrew Jackson Hall. I'll be the green one."

The audience chuckled, and a few of them finally realized who it was they were listening to. As she made her way back to the table, Rebekah watched Jacob follow her with his eyes the entire way.

When she sat down, he said, "That was beautiful."

Rosalyn shrugged.

Rebekah watched them carefully.

"I had no idea you played like that," Jacob added.

"Like you said, it's cathartic," Rosalyn offered.

Jacob smiled, agreeing.

Rosalyn very slowly surveyed the rest of the table then, as the others stared back at her with looks ranging from surprise to disdain. She said nothing, but simply looked at each of them, challenging them to insult or compliment her. No one said anything for some time. In the silence, a rocky truce was drawn, and even Misty and Jenna held their tongues.

As they all gradually went back to listening to the guitarist who'd begun to play, Rosalyn watched Jacob. For the first time, it was she who watched for his reaction. And for the first time in quite a while, he could think of nothing to say.

Later that night, before they parted ways in the hotel, Rosalyn stopped Rebekah in the hallway. There was a hesitant pause, where Rosalyn looked uncertain. She had looked troubled all night, and Rebekah had wondered what was going on in her head. After a long moment, Rosalyn said, "Sometimes, if there's a piano in the rehearsal studio, I go there before the shows and just play. Like Jacob said...it's cathartic..."

Rebekah held her breath, waiting for more.

Rosalyn looked as though she might say something else, but then shook her head. As she walked away, Rebekah was puzzled, and then something began to take shape in her mind. She realized the significance of the information she'd just been given. She pulled out her phone and texted Jacob, in spite of the late hour. She hoped her intincts were correct, and that she was helping, rather than harming. Hesitantly satisfied, she slipped into her room, hoping for the best.

* * *

For the next three days, Jacob stopped by the theater every morning. Acting on what Rebekah had told him, he very quietly checked the rehearsal studio. Each day, he was terrified and exhilarated, and then disappointed. For three days, the studios were empty. Finally, as he prepared to go over on the fourth day, he considered giving up. He knew this was a shot in the dark, anyway. If he found her, Rosalyn would probably just curse at him and run. Still, she had told Rebekah where she could be found. There had to be a reason. So Jacob got up and went over anyway.

That fourth morning, he was greeted by the soft sounds of the piano coming from one of the studios behind the theater. Approaching very quietly, he stood at the door for some time. As he listened, he realized she was playing the same song from a few nights previous. Jacob wondered if it was coincidence, or if she intended for him to hear it again.

Very carefully, he slipped through the door. Rosalyn continued to play without looking up. She wasn't singing this time, but instead focused on the simple melody. Jacob listened, feeling frozen in place, and he was very aware that they were alone in the hollow, mirrored space.

When she finished, Rosalyn finally looked at him. Without saying a word, she stood up and gestured for him to take her seat. Jacob obeyed, and sat there for a moment, deciding what to play. When he finally began, he worked his way through a few old ballads, mostly from other shows. As he played, Rosalyn picked out the songs and sang. Jacob struggled to keep from trembling, as his nerves were threatening to make him break out into a sweat. He had no idea why Rosalyn had suddenly decided to spend time with him, and he was even more baffled by her lack of conversation or explanation. She simply sang, and then eventually made him move so she could play once again. He watched her, entranced, and nearly two hours passed.

And then, as strangely as their encounter had begun, Rosalyn stood and walked away. She did not say goodbye, or even acknowledge out loud that they had just spent two hours together. She paused only to gather her purse, and she did not look back. After the door closed behind her, Jacob sat there for some time, both elated and terribly confused. He had no idea what had transpired. He only knew that it had been well worth two hours of his time. If anything, he wanted more.

* * *

So he returned the next morning, and the next, and with very few exceptions, Rosalyn was there. For the rest of their run in Nashville, they played together. Rosalyn would not speak, except to give instruction. She sang, but was otherwise quiet, and she almost seemed to forget Jacob was there when she played. And he watched her, without expectation. As much as he had talked, he now listened and accompanied, and didn't ask why.

On the Friday just a few days before they were to travel again, Jacob once again found himself in the studio, watching Rosalyn play the dusty piano. He was comfortable now, because he was less afraid that she would run away. He'd decided that this was her version of friendship. This was how Rosalyn knew to communicate. This, for her, was more intimate even than making love. This was her catharsis, and she'd chosen to share it with him.

So he listened, as she worked through a complicated piece. In spite of her long, beautifully sculpted fingers, she struggled to reach the chords in the song she'd chosen, and Jacob could see her frustration. Without thinking, he sat down and placed his hands on hers, to show her the fingering. With his hands on hers, she followed for a moment, and then stopped. He drew a breath, and felt her stiffen.

Jacob turned, and realized how very close they were. He was just inches from her face, as they'd been so many times on stage. Still, this was different. Understanding that he'd probably crossed a line, he very carefully pulled his hands away. He expected Rosalyn to bolt from the room, and he wondered if he should apologize.

Very slowly, Rosalyn pulled her hands away from the piano and laced her fingers together in front of her chest. Jacob could see that she was trembling, and he was afraid to move. Yet instead of running, she sat there for a long time.

After a long silence, Jacob choked out, "I'm sorry."

Rosalyn looked up at him, but still said nothing.

Still expecting her to run, Jacob was floored when, very slowly, she placed her hands back on the keys and said, "Show me."

Swallowing over his own disbelief, Jacob carefully placed his hands on hers again and worked through the chords of the song she'd been playing. Rosalyn was stiff, but she followed him. After a few measures, she looked at him, and her face was so close he could feel her breath. She still trembled, yet he wasn't sure that it was from fear. Pausing for a moment, Jacob looked into her wide, dark eyes, and saw such emptiness that it took his breath. Before logic could stop him, he leaned in and kissed her. And, for a moment, she did not pull away.

* * *

Lyrics:

_Bed of Roses, _Bon Jovi

_Hallelujah,_ Leonard Cohen


	18. Chapter 18: To Each His Own Vice

**Chapter 18: To Each His Own Vice**

Sitting on the piano bench in the silence of the rehearsal studio, Jacob lost all sense of time and space. He raised his hands and tangled them in Rosalyn's thick hair. The moment seemed to last forever as she very hesitantly let him deepen the kiss. Then, to his great surprise, she leaned in and responded. Jacob felt all logic fade away as he drowned in the softness of her lips. The scent of her was all around him, and he was floored by how different this was than their nightly kisses on stage. When they performed, he'd almost become numb to her. It barely registered anymore that they were touching. Now, though, he'd never been more aroused and emotionally alert. Jacob was on the cusp of losing control, when Rosalyn jerked away from him.

Trembling, she touched her hands to her lips, and then her face. She looked at him with a chaotic, absolutely unreadable expression, and then bolted from the room. Jacob sat there for a long time, dazed. For the first few minutes, he tried to determine if perhaps he'd dreamed the whole thing. He wondered if maybe he'd been sitting at the piano alone the entire time, and had only imagined the kiss. However, as he took deep calming breaths, he realized his lips were still tingling from her touch, and her purse was still on the floor where she'd left it.

Amazed, confused, and concerned, Jacob finally stood. He picked up Rosalyn's purse and, feeling a little ridiculous, carried it down the hall. He looked around for her for a few minutes, searching the stage area and the dressing rooms. He finally set her bag inside her dressing room, which was mercifully unlocked, and then slowly made his way back out into the sunshine.

He wrapped his jacket around himself and meandered aimlessly for a bit. The thrill of the kiss was beginning to wear off, and he was starting to feel the gravity of the situation. He'd let his feelings get the best of him, and now Jacob feared he'd opened a very messy, metaphorical can of worms. He absolutely hadn't intended to scare Rosalyn, and he hoped she wasn't panicking. He hoped she understood how much he respected her, and that he would never play with her feelings. Jacob prayed he hadn't ruined their tentative new friendship. He stumbled back to the hotel, now cursing himself and his impulses, and wondering how best to fix the situation.

When he was nearly to his room, he decided he needed to find Rebekah. As pathetic as he felt, seeking advice from a girl, he knew she was better equipped than he at handling Rosalyn. She was probably better than him at working through most complicated, emotional problems, but he hated to admit that. So he knocked on her door, and waited. He waited for a minute, and then knocked again. After several more minutes, he knocked a final time. And then he leaned against the wall, defeated.

* * *

Rebekah was brushing her teeth that same morning, when Rosalyn came flying into her room. She tore past Landon, who'd let her in after she pounded on the door. Then, she paced outside the bathroom door while Rebekah tried to rid herself of toothpaste.

Wiping her hands on a towel, Rebekah emerged asking, "What in the world is going on?"

"He kissed me," Rosalyn said flatly, pacing.

"What?" Rebekah sputtered.

"Jacob. He kissed me."

Landon met Rebekah's eyes over Rosalyn's head, and he looked as surprised as she felt. He headed towards the door, indicating that he would give them some privacy. As the door shut behind him, Rosalyn paced back out of the small bedroom into the tiny, sitting area. She ran her hands through her hair, looking very confused.

"Where? When?" Rebekah finally asked, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

"Now…this morning. In the rehearsal studio," Rosalyn answered.

Rebekah paused, "Are you angry?"

Rosalyn plopped down onto the sofa and put her head in her hands, much the same way she had the first time she and Rebekah had talked.

"Did he hurt you?" Rebekah tried again, not really believing that Jacob was capable of harm.

Rosalyn sighed heavily, "No…no. I just…he can't…I mean…it never should have happened. I let him kiss me…and I just made it worse…I know I did."

"Wait…what?" Rebekah was entirely confused.

"I've just never…I mean it's not that…"

"Rosalyn," Rebekah stopped her, "I have no idea what you're saying. Did he scare you? Did he come on too strong?"

Rosalyn put her hands in her hair, and then over her face. Then, after a moment, she looked up, "I'm not afraid of him, Rebekah. I know that's what you think. But I know he's harmless. I don't think he's going to hurt me. I know you think this is so black and white, but I'm not afraid of men. Men are easy to control, generally. I've learned that. I'm just afraid that…"

There was a long pause, as Rosalyn struggled.

"What?" Rebekah finally asked.

"He needs to leave me alone. This is why I cannot be his friend. His feelings are too strong, and I will ruin him."

Rebekah stood there for a long time, shocked. She'd never really considered the possibility of this. She knew that Rosalyn had a skewed opinion of relationships, but she had also believed it stemmed from a fear of men. She'd assumed Rosalyn's father had instilled a fear that had never been confronted. It had never occurred to Rebekah that Rosalyn might be afraid to relate to others because she loathed herself so strongly. In a way, it was more devastating than just believing Rosalyn was afraid of Jacob. She was afraid _for_ Jacob.

Rosalyn took another breath and continued, "I understand that Jacob is a decent man, Rebekah. And he probably deserves good things. I am not one of those things."

Rebekah was very quiet, stunned by the raw honesty in Rosalyn's statement. She took a long pause, a little afraid to ask her next question. Finally, she asked softly, "Rosalyn, do you hate yourself?"

Rosalyn continued to look at her hands, "Does it matter? I'm a murderer, Rebekah. And I'm a whore. He doesn't want me. Not for a real relationship."

Rebekah was quiet for a minute, trying to determine the best way to respond. She was at another impasse, when Rosalyn's struggles surpassed her limited wisdom. After some time, she offered, "None of us are perfect."

Rosalyn snorted, and then laughed harshly, "Rebekah Rawlings, you are the closest thing to _perfect_ I've ever seen."

Rebekah was taken aback, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Rosalyn turned toward Rebekah, her expression harsh, "Come on, you're the perfect, little, blonde angel your parents always wanted. You were so perfect, they didn't even need any more children! You've had the same best friend since you were three, and you grew up in a town where everyone came to your dance recitals and watched you cheer at the high school football games! You went off to school, and never drank or partied or even took a dare! You were a wholesome virgin until you slept with Landon, the man you will marry and grow old with! You're playing Glinda the Good, for god sakes! Who else's life has ever been that perfect?"

When Rosalyn finally stopped, Rebekah looked at her with a stony expression. She was both shocked and angry. When she finally found the right words, she said, "I am different than you, Rosalyn, but I am not perfect. I struggle with my own demons, and they are real, even if they pale in comparison with yours. My parents did spoil me, but that's because my mother nearly died giving birth to me, and they couldn't have any more children. They sheltered me and smothered me, and because of that I have worked for years to overcome my fear of the unknown. And in that small town where everyone dotes on you, they are also very quick to judge you when they think you're not listening. So don't call me perfect, Rosalyn. Don't demean my struggles while you're dealing with yours."

Rosalyn stared at Rebekah for some time, her expression wavering between angry and defeated. Eventually, she said, "Fine. Maybe you're not perfect. Maybe there's things I don't know about you, but you have no idea how it feels to be me, so leave it alone. Stop forcing Jacob on me. He's only going to get hurt."

Rebekah was silent for another long moment, and then said, "Only if you decide to hurt him."

"And I suppose you think that comes easily to me! After all, I'm Rosalyn. All I ever do is hurt people!"

"You're the one who chooses to be so hateful! You could have friends! People would love you, if you let them!"

"No! People will react exactly the way you did when you read about my father! People, including Jacob, will be horrified and afraid! You are the only one who's ever been naïve enough to think it all doesn't matter!"

Rebekah looked wounded, "That's all you think of me? You really just think I'm naïve, and stupid enough to be your friend?"

Rosalyn started to answer, and her expression was hard. Instead, she stood and marched from the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Jacob spent the rest of the day trying to find Rosalyn, so he could apologize for his behavior. He knew he should have resisted the impulse to kiss her, even if the moment had felt so right. She was struggling with being around him as it was, and she had just started to let her guard down. Now, he'd most likely ruined all of it. He berated himself all afternoon, and waited outside of both her room and the theater for some time. Still, she did an excellent job of avoiding him. He didn't see her at all until she was already situated in her dressing room with her makeup artist. By then, it was too late for any meaningful conversation. The curtain would soon be up, and there was a show to be done.

Jacob tried to clear his mind, and focus on getting through the show, but he was distracted. He didn't feel like his performance was as strong as usual, and he continued to struggle with what to do next. Throughout intermission, he tried to work out in his mind how he could catch Rosalyn after the show and beg her forgiveness. However, before he could cement the plan, he was on again.

That night, as he and Rosalyn began their duet, he tried to really look into her eyes. He tried to read whether she was angry or hurt, or just absolutely not interested. She was a model of professionalism, however. She had slipped behind the mask of her character, and Jacob knew he couldn't crack the façade. He knew it was nearly impossible to throw her, or to inject personal feelings into the scene she knew so well. Rosalyn had sung with him, and kissed him, so many times that it was nothing to her. He'd so thoroughly accepted it, that he was mostly numb as well. They never deviated from the routine of this scene. So, when the final notes sounded and she threw herself at him for their last kiss, Jacob was startled.

Rosalyn held to him just a little more tightly than usual. She wound her arms around his neck, and he could feel the curves of her body pressed into him through the fitted bodice of her dress. She let the kiss linger a few moments longer than usual, and when she pulled away, there was a touch of panic in her eyes.

Jacob delivered his very appropriate line, saying, "What's wrong?"

Rosalyn hesitated, and for a moment, Jacob almost forgot that there were more than two thousand sets of eyes staring them down. He wanted Rosalyn to spill whatever was bothering her, whatever secrets or fears she harbored, and let him wipe them away. He wanted to be back in the rehearsal studio, with just them and the piano.

Rosalyn went on with her lines, though, and when it was his turn, Jacob followed. The show moved on, and the moment was gone. The curtain fell, and the audience cheered and cried, and stood for them when they took their curtain call. Everything moved like most every other show, on most every other night. That is, until Jacob exited the stage and crossed through the darkened stage-left wing. As he walked by, Rosalyn reached out and pulled him into a dimly lit corner, away from all the bustling post-show activity. She was still fully-costumed, and he stared at her in disbelief.

"What's going on?" Jacob managed to ask.

"This has to stop. What happened between us today…has to stop," Rosalyn said sharply.

Jacob tried to meet her eyes, "Why? If it's real, then why?"

"Because it's not real. It's just fluffy feelings."

Jacob took a breath and studied her. Rosalyn was still very green in the pale light, and her makeup shimmered and accented her already dramatic features. Her dress clung and flowed in all the right ways. She was so perfectly exotic in this character, that it was almost a testimony to her. She was made for this role, and Jacob often thought that it was a chance for her to look as different and awkward as she felt. At the same time, he wondered if she understood that he saw through her, much the same way Fiyero saw Elphaba in a way no one else could.

"Rosalyn," he finally answered, "My feelings are real. I'm not just attracted to you. I _want_ to care about you. So if you're going to shoot me down, at least be honest with me. Don't belittle my feelings. I'm an adult, Rosalyn, and I _am_ your friend."

She was quiet then, and her eyes were filled with turmoil as she studied his face. Finally, she entwined her perfect, green fingers together and said, "I can't accept your friendship, Jacob. I understand that your feelings are real, but I will only hurt you. You think you can love me, and maybe you could. But you deserve better. I'm a cheap, Cracker Jack prize, if that. I'm a novelty that's fun for an hour, but I'll only disappoint you, in time. You can't live with my sins, so please just go. Give yourself time, and you'll get over this. Find someone who deserves you."

Rosalyn took a long pause, and Jacob just stood there, as though she'd punched him.

As she started to walk away, Rosalyn added, "And when you find her…play the piano for her."

* * *

The following Monday, they packed up and made the trek from Nashville to Chicago. Their run in the Windy City would be a bit longer than the others, and the weather was already shaping up to be brutal. It was frigid, and the last of the winter storms seemed determined to dump as much late-season snowfall as was possible. Flights were delayed and the roads were questionable, at best. When the cast finally arrived at their hotel, they were frozen and covered in layer of wet, crusty snow.

Jacob had never been more grateful for the basic amenities of a hotel before. He dumped his things in his room and pulled on an extra sweater. Then, he headed downstairs for the comfort of the roaring fire that had bit lit in the spacious lobby. Several others had the same idea, and Jacob saw Landon working on his computer in the corner. He crossed the room and pull up a chair, hoping he wasn't being a nuisance.

Landon looked up and smiled.

"Hey," Jacob offered, "You looked busy, so I thought I'd come ruin your concentration."

Landon laughed, "It's fine. I'm getting nowhere with this anyway. I need a break."

Jacob nodded, and then couldn't decide what he'd wanted to say, if anything. He stared across the room at the random collection of people scattered throughout the lobby. Rosalyn was nowhere to be found, as she had been for several days now. He assumed she was deliberately still avoiding him, and he couldn't stop himself from letting out a defeated sigh.

Landon said nothing for a moment, and then hesitantly asked, "So…am I allowed to ask what happened last week? With Rosalyn?"

Jacob took another deep breath, "I guess. I have no idea what to think about what happened. On one hand…I think I ruined our friendship, as questionable as it might've been. One the other hand…"

There was a long pause, with Landon looking both concerned and confused. He finally asked, "Did you kiss her?"

"Yeah," Jacob confessed, "It just…happened. The moment felt right, I guess. I don't know…I'm sure it was the wrong thing to do. I mean, I've kissed her so many times in the show…it was easy to just let it happen…"

Landon tried to be compassionate, "I suppose that makes sense…"

Jacob shook his head, "It's okay. You can say what you're thinking. It was stupid of me."

Landon smiled, "I never used the word 'stupid'."

Jacob sighed, "I know I can't push her. But…I also _know_ there was something there. It wasn't just me kissing her…I swear…she responded. And then, at the show the other night…"

"Yeah?" Landon asked.

Jacob shook his head, "I don't know…I just don't understand why, if there's something there, why she won't give it a chance. Am I that undesirable?"

Landon smirked, "I've gotta draw the line at ranking you on your desirability."

Jacob finally smiled, "Yeah, I know…"

Landon looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "I think you're in for a long road, with this. You're not going to change Rosalyn overnight. You're not going to change her with one kiss. I don't even know if you'll get through to her by the end of this tour…"

Jacob leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, he said, "I just don't understand her. How can I feel so strongly about someone who I _cannot_ understand?"

Landon considered the question, but said nothing. He looked sympathetic, for his friend, but Rosalyn's secrets were not his to tell.

* * *

For the rest of the week, Rosalyn continued to elude Jacob. He waited for her outside the theater before the shows, and in the lobby of the hotel at night. He knocked on Rebekah's door, hoping to find her inside, and was disappointed. He resorted to playing the piano in the lobby of the hotel in the early morning hours, hoping she might take notice. Jacob even took to writing her notes, apologizing and asking her to have lunch with him. He asked her just to meet him in the lobby, so he could apologize in person. He asked her come and play the piano with him one more time, so she could see that his intentions were honorable. He wrote note after note and slipped them under her door, and hoped.

Still, they met on stage each night like strangers, and she would say nothing to him other than her lines. Rosalyn was a closed book, refusing to acknowledge the tentative friendship they'd almost shared. If she'd felt something, if she'd wanted him for even a moment, she would give no sign. She moved around him like an elusive dream, an apparition who seemed so real, but could not be touched.

It wasn't until that Friday that Jacob finally managed to stumble on her, as she collected her things at the end of the show. She looked startled when she saw him standing in the doorway of her dressing room, but she recovered quickly.

"I have to go," she stated flatly.

"Rosalyn," he asked softly, "Can't you just talk to me? Maybe I was wrong to kiss you. But I still think we have a friendship. I just…I miss spending time with you. Those times at the piano...they really meant something. Like you said, it's cathartic..."

She looked at him for a moment, but her face was blank and unreadable. After a moment, she brushed past him without another word.

He stood there, once again defeated.

* * *

Jacob was not the only one struggling with Rosalyn's sudden disappearance. Rebekah also waited for her each night after the show and, every night, Rosalyn managed to disappear without speaking. The two women hadn't spoken since they'd argued in Nashville, and Rebekah was beginning to feel terrible about their having fought. She knew that Rosalyn had a skewed view of the world, and she decided she shouldn't have been so defensive. She should have known not to fight with Rosalyn like she would with anyone else. It still hurt, to know that Rosalyn thought she was so shallow, but there were a lot of things about Rosalyn that didn't make sense. Rebekah knew she should have let her vent, and then gotten to the root of what the real problem was. She should have found out exactly what happened with Jacob. Now, Rebekah felt worse as each day passed.

Also, to her great chagrin, she noticed Rosalyn had resumed her practice of stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning. They had begun requesting that their rooms be close to one another, so it was hard for Rosalyn to hide. When Rebekah had checked on her, both at night and in the mornings, she'd had men in her room. It was no longer surprising, but it was disheartening. Rebekah had believed that Rosalyn's new friendship with Jacob, along with their growing relationship, had started to fill that hole. She'd believed Rosalyn was starting not to need her vices. Now, though, she seemed to have fallen back into their destructive hold.

Rebekah knew Jacob was having no luck, either. She was a little angry with him, for acting on his impulses instead of thinking. However, she was also angry with herself for not handling it better. She should've seen Rosalyn's lashing out for what it was, an attempt to cover whatever she was feeling about Jacob. Now, though, it was too late, and Rosalyn was pushing them away. She was falling back into the destructive pattern that had alienated her to begin with. For Rebekah, who so hated to see anyone suffer, it was more than disheartening, it was tragic.

So she was surprised when Rosalyn banged on her door Sunday evening, a week after they'd left Nashville. When she opened the door, Rosalyn came flying in again, like the whirlwind she typically was. In her hands, she clutched a sheaf of papers.

"What is going on?" Rebekah asked softly.

"You have to make this stop," Rosalyn snapped.

"What?" Rebekah was bewildered.

"This," Rosalyn dropped the stack of paper on the tiny, kitchenette counter.

"What are those?" Rebekah asked, flipping through the ragged pieces of paper. As she unfolded a few of them, she recognized the logo on the hotel stationary. She started to read a few, and realized what she was holding, "Did Jacob give you these?" she finally asked.

Rosalyn nodded, "He's been sticking them under my door. And it has to stop."

Rebekah sighed, "Then ask him to stop. Or talk to him. You're both adults, Rosalyn"

Rosalyn started to pace again, "Why is he so determined about this? Why doesn't he go away? What kind of person doesn't get the message when you ignore them?"

Rebekah carefully stacked the notes, and then said, "Rosalyn, can we put this aside for a minute? I mean…we haven't spoken since last week."

Rosalyn stopped, and looked annoyed.

"Are you still angry with me?" Rebekah asked.

"No," Rosalyn finally answered.

Rebekah was a little shocked, "Were you ever going to tell me that you're not angry anymore?"

Rosalyn looked confused, "Why?"

"Because…because I've felt terrible for a week about fighting with you!"

"Oh."

There was an uncomfortable pause.

Rosalyn finally continued, "I don't really think you're naïve…or stupid…"

"Is that an apology?" Rebekah whispered.

Rosalyn struggled, "Can we just…can you just help me with this?" She indicated the pile of notes still on the counter.

Rebekah sighed, deciding it was up to her to show Rosalyn how to reconcile a friendship. She took a step forward and took one of Rosalyn's hands. Then, she said, "I'm sorry we fought. I really only want you to be happy."

Rosalyn snorted, but there was a hint of longing in her eyes.

Rebekah stepped back and looked through the notes again, "Rosalyn," she finally said, "I can't change Jacob's feelings. I can talk to him, but I can't make him feel differently."

"Then just…tell him to leave me alone!" Rosalyn shouted.

Rebekah sighed, "I can do that, but, for whatever crazy reason, he loves you."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes just as someone knocked on the door. Rebekah furrowed her brow, because Landon had just left to get dinner, and she wasn't expecting anyone else. She crossed the room and pulled open the heavy door to see Jacob standing there. When he saw Rosalyn over her shoulder, his eyes widened. Rebekah opened the door and let him in, and Rosalyn froze.

Her eyes flashed as she said, "I was just leaving."

"No!" Jacob stopped her, "I just want to talk to you. Right here, in front of Rebekah, if that makes it easier. I don't have anything to say that I can't say in front of her, and I don't want anything from you that can't be done with her in the room."

Rosalyn looked away after his last statement.

Jacob took a breath, and said to her, "Rosalyn, what we've had these past few weeks, that doesn't happen to me very often. I've never really fit in all that well, but…playing music with you, just being with you, it's like I found someone who understands me. Maybe it's love, or maybe it's just a great friendship, I don't know. But I do know that I don't want you to walk away from this. Please don't hate me for making a stupid mistake!"

Rosalyn stood there for a minute, with her arms crossed. Jacob looked at her, expectant. After another moment, she said, "No."

She started for the door then, and Jacob went after her. Rebekah stood still, watching the entire scene with no idea what to do. Rosalyn flung open the door and started into the hall. Jacob followed, desperate. He wasn't winning any points for masculinity, as far as Rebekah was concerned, but he certainly had a big heart. When he loved, he obviously loved with everything in him. She watched as Jacob followed Rosalyn through the door, and Rebekah moved just in time to catch it and hold it open.

In the hallway, Jacob reached out and grabbed Rosalyn's hand. She whipped around, and he pleaded, "Please Rosalyn! I am not afraid of anything about you! I don't care what skeletons you have in your closet! Please!"

"No!" Rosalyn tried to back away.

Jacob stepped in and took her by the arms, and Rebekah saw Rosalyn's face pale. Jacob, having no idea what he was doing, held onto her and said, "Please! I won't let you throw away what there might be between us!"

Rosalyn reached up then, and shoved Jacob away from her. He stumbled backward, and Rebekah could see that Rosalyn had started to tremble, "Don't touch me! You know _nothing_ about me!" she shouted, before turning and fleeing back into the safety of her room.

Rebekah stood there for some time, watching for Jacob's reaction. When the shock wore off, he dropped his shoulders sadly. He ran a hand through his hair, and Rebekah felt horribly for him. She knew he'd meant well.

"I'm sorry, Jacob," she offered.

He took a few more deep breaths, and then said, "I scared her, didn't I?"

Rebekah nodded.

Jacob leaned against the wall for a long time, thinking. Rebekah still held onto the door, wondering what she could say to help him.

After thinking for several minutes, he leveled her with a solemn gaze and asked in a low voice, "Did someone…I mean…was she…was she raped?"

Rebekah stood there for a minute, surprised at how intuitive he was, and she struggled with what to say. Eventually, after being unable to come up with any other answer, she just nodded.

Jacob stood there for a long time, his expression hard, and his eyes sad.

* * *

The next morning, after having showered and mostly prepared for the day, Rebekah padded softly down the hall and knocked on Rosalyn's door. After a moment, she answered and let Rebekah in. Rebekah stood there, studying the impeccable order in Rosalyn's room. In ran in stark contrast to Rosalyn herself, who still wore sweatpants and a ragged t-shirt. Her hair was wild and disheveled, and she still had a bit of green make up behind her ears.

"I guess you didn't go anywhere last night?" Rebekah asked with a smile.

"I was tired," Rosalyn shrugged.

"Ah," Rebekah answered. There was a long pause before she continued, "I just wanted to apologize…for last night…for all the arguing. I really will talk to Jacob, I promise. He's just…passionate."

Rosalyn shook her head, "You may not have to."

"What?" Rebekah was surprised.

"I've figured out what to do," Rosalyn answered.

Rebekah felt a glimmer of hope, "Really? Are you going to talk to him?"

Rosalyn shook her head again, "No. I'm going to sleep with him."

There was a very long, thick silence. Rebekah stood there with her mouth open, stunned. After a very long time, she finally choked out, "What?"

Rosalyn ran her hands through her wild hair, "He's attracted to me. He's probably one of those people who wants what they can't have. And the more he can't have me, the more he wants me. I normally stay away from men I have to see often, but this is out of control."

Rebekah still struggled for words, "Rosalyn…no."

"Why not? There's been hundreds. What's one more?"

"You just can't do that"

"Why?"

"Because…it's wrong. That's not what he wants from you."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "Yes it is. I can tell. And once he's had me, he'll be over it, and we can all move on."

Rebekah stood there for another minute, in utter disbelief at what she was hearing, "Rosalyn," she finally asked, "have you not gotten to know Jacob at all?"

"He's a man, Rebekah."

Rebekah shook her head, "So? He has feelings, Rosalyn. He's not a selfish, chauvinistic jerk! He's sweet, kind, and maybe a little whiny, but he really cares about you!"

Rosalyn sighed and shook her head in return, "No. I know you want to believe that everyone is like you, Rebekah, but most people are not. Most people are selfish. Most of them don't meet their soul mate and fall in love. What you and Landon have, that's unheard of. Sometimes, I can't believe you've never been with anyone but him!"

Rebekah was taken aback, "What we have might be hard to find, but it's not impossible. Landon is not the only decent guy out there!"

Rosalyn laughed harshly, "Whatever. I guarantee you, after one night with me, Jacob will absolutely lose interest. He'll go back to whatever his hobby was before he started obsessing over me."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Rebekah responded, "Or, he'll be so devastated that he never gets over it."

"Yeah, right," Rosalyn snapped.

"Rosalyn, can't you see that he doesn't just want to sleep with you? He wants to talk to you! He wants to know you! He wants to play the piano with you! He wants to hold you and care about you in a way that I never can! I know you're afraid, but on some level…don't you want that?"

"I am _not_ afraid," Rosalyn said through clenched teeth.

"Then why can't you be his friend? You think being his friend will hurt him? _This_ will hurt him!"

Rosalyn said nothing in return, and her expression was dark.

"Please don't do this," Rebekah pleaded.

"It's the only way," Rosalyn said quietly.

"You have no idea how much you're going to hurt him," Rebekah whispered.

Rosalyn was quiet again.

"I'll warn him," Rebekah threatened.

"I promise you," Rosalyn said in a low voice, "that a warning won't stop him. He's a man, Rebekah. He won't say no. And he'll be relieved when I walk away."

Rebekah's tone became harder, "You can't right a wrong with another wrong, Rosalyn. You can't change what happened to you by hurting other people."

Rosalyn looked away for a moment, and then said flatly, "Dominic will be back after this run, anyway. And Jacob will be able to walk away, with his curiosity satisfied."

Rebekah just stood there, her hands clenched into fists. Her emotions were in turmoil, and she could feel the coming storm. Still, she could only warn Jacob. She could only tell him what Rosalyn planned to do, and hope that he would do the right thing. She could only hope that his feelings really were sincere, and that he was the man she believed him to be. Still, men did not say no to Rosalyn. Rosalyn was beautiful, seductive, and a damn good actress. And Jacob was terribly smitten. The combination was becoming dangerously volatile, and Rebekah was afraid.


	19. Chapter 19: Beautiful Rose

**Chapter 19: Beautiful Rose**

Two days later, Jacob sat in the lobby of the hotel, alone. Everyone else had long since gone to bed, and the room was filled with an almost tangible quiet. He had no idea what time it was, but he didn't much care. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, no matter what the hour. He sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, staring at the patterns in the upholstery and trying to make sense of his thoughts. Not one to easily let things go, he was haunted by the look on Rosalyn's face from two days prior. When he had taken her arms and pleaded with her, he hadn't meant any harm. Still, he couldn't get the fear on her face out of his mind. He was also devastated by what he'd learned about her. He'd suspected she must've have gone through something difficult, but the idea of someone raping her made him want to vomit. And he was angry with himself for having accidentally aggravated that fear. He wanted desperately to make it right.

Since then, she'd given him no chance to apologize, though. She went through the routine of their shows and only cast him steely glances if their paths crossed. Her eyes were a warning, daring him to come close to her. So Jacob kept his distance, wanting to show that he was sufficiently contrite. He hadn't felt much like socializing either, and had spent most of the past two days either in his room, or walking aimlessly in the blustery weather. He feared he might be sinking into some sort of mild depression, and he kept telling himself that it was crazy to be this upset over a relationship that barely existed. Still, his heart betrayed him, and he berated himself constantly for his mistakes.

Lost in his thoughts, Jacob barely noticed that someone had come to sit beside him. When a figure plopped down into the seat next to him, he turned to see who had interrupted his thinking. It was another guy, about forty years-old or so. He looked tired and disheveled, and he reeked of alcohol.

Jacob saw him squinting at a cell phone, and offered, "Do you need some help?"

The guy leaned his head back against the chair for a minute. Then, he leaned forward and tossed Jacob the phone, asking, "Could you call me a cab?"

Jacob hesitated, "I don't know this area very well. Do we have a phone book?"

The guy leaned back again and said, "It's on speed dial. Just look up 'cab'."

Jacob raised an eyebrow, "You have the cab place on speed dial?"

"This isn't my first night out," the guy said, with sarcasm.

Jacob nodded, still feeling a bit awkward, and looked through the contacts in the phone. Finding the number, he dialed. After a moment, he got an answer, and gave the dispatcher the address of the hotel. Hanging up, he said, "It'll be about twenty minutes."

"Awesome," the guy snapped, rubbing his eyes.

There was a long pause, and Jacob considered going back upstairs. He felt obligated to say something else, though, so he handed the phone back and said, "I guess you didn't feel like staying in the hotel?"

The guy sat up again, "Can't afford this place."

"Oh," Jacob looked around, "is there a bar in here?"

"No, genius, there was a girl in here."

"Oh," Jacob suddenly understood.

"Yeah," the guy cracked a smile, "she was something. Absolute perfection. Looks like something out of one of those Victoria's Secret ads. Definitely out of my league. I guess she must've realized that though…because I didn't even get a nap before she was kicking me out of her room."

Jacob suddenly felt a twinge of something in his stomach, as he considered the details of the story.

"Now, I'm half-drunk and sitting in a hotel lobby at three in the morning," the guy complained.

"Yeah," Jacob said dryly, "those one night stands are inconvenient like that."

The guy smirked, and said, "I'm trying to decide if she was worth this hassle…and I'm pretty sure the answer is yes. You been out tonight?"

Jacob shook his head.

"I'd check out _O'Bradys_. They must put something extra special in the drinks there. I haven't scored a girl like this in years. She's some kind of actress…or a singer, and…damn."

Jacob's throat suddenly felt very dry, as he put together the pieces of what he was hearing. He began to wish he'd never come down to the lobby, and he prayed there was a chance this guy was talking about someone other than Rosalyn.

"Yeah," the guy went on, "she's got long, dark hair, and she said some crazy stuff in Spanish."

"What room?" Jacob suddenly choked out.

"Four-twelve," the guy slurred, "Why? You want a piece of that? I've gotta tell ya, she was sweet as honey until it was over."

"Do you even know her name?" Jacob asked through clenched teeth.

"Nah. That's unnecessary. Kinda ruins the fun, too. I just called her Goddess, because that's what she looks like. And sweet lord, she knew what she was doing. I'll be visiting _O'Bradys_ again 'cause…damn."

Jacob felt his temper flare, and he was on his feet suddenly. He pointed his finger in the guy's face and said, "You have no idea who you've just taken advantage of! You have no idea who you've just used and thrown out, like she's some sort of cheap, party favor! You are pathetic, and you don't deserve her!"

The guy leaned back and threw up his hands, saying, "Calm down, man. It's not like I forced her or something!"

Jacob just stood there, seething. He knew his anger was compounded by what he'd just learned about Rosalyn. He knew he was taking out his feelings towards whoever had hurt her on this guy, but he didn't care at the moment.

The guy struggled to his feet, and added, "Maybe if you go up there and get laid, you won't be such an ass."

Jacob reeled back then, and punched the guy square in the face. He stumbled, and fell back into the chair, stunned. He clutched at his face, but he was too intoxicated to retaliate. Jacob dropped his hand, and stood there long enough to make sure the guy wasn't badly hurt. Seeing that he wasn't even bleeding, Jacob rolled his eyes in disgust and stormed out of the lobby.

He made his way back upstairs, feeling angry, frustrated and hurt all at once. He knew he had no reason to feel betrayed. Rosalyn was not his, and he knew very well what her lifestyle was like. Still, to have to look into the face of someone who'd been with her was a bit much. She deserved so much better, in his opinion. He hated to think of her now, in her bed, alone. He wanted to slip into her room and curl up with her. He wanted to hold her so that she wasn't alone. And then Jacob berated himself, because the whole idea sounded so pathetic. Rosalyn probably enjoyed the solitude, as far as that went. She probably wasn't crying or aching from loneliness. After all, she'd chosen to sleep with the guy. His worry was probably the result of his overly sympathetic personality.

Jacob trudged slowly down the quiet hallway, trying to get his thoughts under control. He stood outside the door to his room for a few minutes, and then turned away again. He walked down the hall to Rebekah and Landon's room, and knocked softly on the door. He knew he was most likely going to come across as insane, but Jacob felt like he had to talk to someone, or explode.

Mercifully, it was Landon who answered the door. His hair was a mess and he looked surprised, but he smiled and asked, "What's up?"

"I know this is rude and ridiculous, but can I come in for a minute?" Jacob asked quietly.

Landon yawned and opened the door wider, gesturing for Jacob to enter. Once they were inside, he let the door close and turned to the kitchenette. He pulled open the fridge and squinted inside. Turning back to Jacob, he held up a can and offered, "Three AM soda?"

Jacob laughed a little and said, "Sure."

Landon tossed him a can, and then crossed to sit in the chair in the living area. Jacob followed and dropped onto the sofa.

"So…what's going on at three in the morning?" Landon asked.

Jacob sighed, "I don't know. Nothing. Everything. I just can't sleep. Rosalyn consumes my every thought, and I think I scared her the other day. I feel awful."

Landon nodded, "I hope you don't mind, but I heard about that."

Jacob shrugged, "It's not like it was a secret."

Landon studied him for a minute, "I don't have any better answers, Jacob. Rosalyn is complicated."

"I know," Jacob struggled, "I'm just angry and frustrated, mostly at myself."

"Because of what happened?"

"Yeah…because I scared her. Because I kissed her when she wasn't ready. And because…someone raped her," Jacob answered.

Landon sighed, "It's a terrible thing. I can't imagine what she went through, especially because I'm a guy. I know Rebekah was pretty torn up when she found out."

Jacob studied his drink, "As stupid as this sounds, I wonder what's wrong with men sometimes…"

Landon smiled, "Come on…some of us aren't so bad."

"Rebekah's lucky," Jacob replied, "to have someone like you. You're a good friend, too."

"You're sounding pretty girly again, Jacob," Landon teased.

Jacob sighed, and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. After a minute, he asked, "Can I tell you something without being judged?"

Landon set down his drink and looked serious, "Sure. I'm just teasing you, you know."

"I know," Jacob started, "It's just…well…I was raised by my mom. I told you that. It affected the way I think, you know. I never really had a dad to look up to…"

Landon looked sympathetic, "Yeah…that's tough. But you turned out all right. Girls probably appreciate the sensitivity."

Jacob laughed sarcastically, "Yeah, you'd think. But…I just…I've never…I've never slept with a woman."

Landon sat there, stunned.

"Or a man," Jacob felt the need to clarify.

After a very long pause, Landon recovered and said, "Wow. How is that even possible? I mean…you might have your issues, well all do, but you're a good person. You're an actor, and you're not bad looking. I mean, you're playing Fiyero. Certainly someone's been attracted to you…"

Jacob shook his head, "Yeah…there's been a few. Some of them just wanted sex and some others wanted to 'initiate' me. But…I've never been in love. I'm certainly not completely inexperienced. When I was in college, I fooled around some, to a certain point. And I hated myself for it."

"Why?" Landon asked.

"Because…because," Jacob struggled, "When I was growing up, my dad lived with us until I was about nine. He used to smack my mom around, and threaten her. He treated her like garbage. He cheated on her and then threw it in her face, made it her fault. He told me all the time that women were created just to make him happy. I was mostly just an inconvenience for him. Eventually, when he started hitting me, my mom threw him out, and I haven't seen him since. It was just me and her for ten years. And…I swore I would never treat someone like that. I swore I'd never sleep with someone I wasn't certain I was in love with. I swore never to use a woman like that."

There was a quiet pause, and then Landon asked, "But…there's never been anyone you loved?"

Jacob shook his head, "No. When I was in school, everyone just seemed really shallow. And then I was always touring, or moving, and I just didn't think I could commit to anyone while doing that. Time just went by and…and now I'm in love with a woman who hates me."

"Wow…I'm gonna be honest Jacob, I have no idea what to say," Landon answered.

"It's okay. Just not laughing at me is enough."

"I mean, a part of me wants to tell you to just get it over with already. But if that's really not what you want…"

After a moment, Jacob shook his head and said, "No."

Landon was quiet then, sipping his drink and looking thoughtful. Eventually, he offered, "All you can do, for Rosalyn, is be there for her. If you love her, if you want a relationship with her, then you're going to have to just consistently be there. Listen to her. Encourage her. Compliment her. Just…don't give up. From what Rebekah has said, I don't think she's always trying to be hateful. Rosalyn honestly doesn't understand how to be social."

Jacob nodded.

"And," Landon continued, "I think you should tell her what you told me. Maybe not that last part, but about your family. About your dad. Whenever you find the right moment. I think that might mean something to her."

Jacob wasn't entirely sure of the reasoning, but he nodded again in agreement. Then, he said, "You know, you're not so bad with the advice."

Landon smiled, "Maybe it's because I'm barely awake."

Jacob laughed, and then started to leave. Before he opened the door, he turned back and said, "Could you not mention this to anyone? You know…the stuff I told you?"

Landon stood and replied, "Sure. I've gotta tell you, there was a time when I would've said you were crazy and told everyone I know, but…you're a good guy. A little weird…but I respect you anyway."

Jacob laughed at himself and said, "Thanks," before heading back to his room to get some much-needed sleep.

* * *

The following day, Rebekah looked everywhere for Jacob. He had been alluding her since Monday, and she was determined to find him and warn him about Rosalyn. She knew she was going to sound crazy, and he might just end up angry with her, but she had to do something. She drew the line at just letting Rosalyn be cruel. However, Jacob had been strangely absent over the past three days. She could normally find him in his room, or get him on his phone when she wanted to ask him if he had lunch plans. Landon often saw him in the fitness room. This week, though, he was missing.

By the time she got to the show that night, Rebekah was irritated and ready to give up. The constant Jacob and Rosalyn drama was starting to wear on her, and part of her wanted to just let whatever happened, happen. She was too soft-hearted, however, to give up. She still resolved to warn Jacob, and then to consider taking a break from caring so much.

Rebekah finally managed to find him in his dressing room just before the five minute call. She was already dressed for the show, and her giant, ball gown was cumbersome. Fighting with it, she knocked on the doorframe.

Jacob turned, and she said, "I need to talk to you. After the show. Don't go anywhere until I find you, okay?"

He looked a bit startled, and asked, "Is everything ok?"

"Yes. No. Mostly…just find me, okay?"

Jacob nodded, bewildered, and Rebekah was off to Oz for the next three hours.

* * *

After the show, Jacob wearily made his way to his dressing room. It had been a long few days, and he very much wanted some sleep. He'd finally managed to fall asleep the night before, but he still wasn't well-rested. Getting some of his issues off his chest had helped, however, it had been four AM before he'd gotten to bed. Tonight, he planned to take some over-the-counter drugs and get a decent night's sleep.

He had just gotten dressed and gathered his things, when there was a knock at his dressing room door. Jacob pulled the door open, remembering that Rebekah had wanted to talk to him. He looked up wearily, not sure if he could take any more drama tonight. To his surprise, it was Rosalyn who stared back at him.

"May I come in?" she asked in a low voice.

Jacob was caught entirely off guard. She'd never once asked to come in his dressing room. She very rarely even initiated conversation. So he stepped aside and let her in. Rosalyn responded by closing the door behind her, and then turning towards him. Jacob felt a twinge of uncertainty, and the small space felt a bit like it was closing in on them. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were. After a moment, Rosalyn stepped forward and closed the space between them. She slowly raised her arms and encircled them around his neck. Then, she pressed herself against him, and kissed him.

Jacob reeled as she parted her lips and kissed him more deeply than they ever had on stage. She kissed him more deeply even than that day at the piano. She was not going through the routine of the show, and she wasn't just responding to him. She was trying to illicit a response. And Jacob's entire body flushed and tingled. Rosalyn then ran her hands over his chest and down his back. She pulled him into her so that her body melded with his, and let the kiss linger for some time.

And, in spite of himself, the one word in Jacob's mind was the same word the creepy guy from the hotel had used.

_Damn._

When Rosalyn finally pulled away, Jacob was breathless. He could think of no words, and he had no idea what was going on. She slid her hands back up around his neck, and then said into his ear, "I want you to meet me at my room in half an hour. It's important."

She turned and left then, and Jacob stood there, stunned. He had no explanation for what just happened. He had no idea what Rosalyn wanted or why she'd suddenly kissed him. He was shocked, dazed, and he completely forgot that Rebekah had asked to talk to him. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He was, after all, still very much a man. Rosalyn had cast her spell, and she was waiting for him.

* * *

When Jacob got to Rosalyn's door, he stood there for a minute, trying to calm his breathing. He tried to make himself focus on the situation, rather than get caught up in the emotion. He'd acted on impulse once already, and she'd gotten angry with him. He thought she was determined never to forgive him. Now, she seemed to have changed her mind. Still, he didn't want to scare her. He didn't want to rush into something they would both regret. He was only human, though, and he wanted more of what he'd just experienced in his dressing room.

Jacob finally calmed himself enough to knock on the door. After a moment, Rosalyn pulled it open. He stood there, just inside, as the door closed behind him. Rosalyn crossed the room, which was lit by just one of the lamps, and turned to face him. Then, he really looked at her, and his breath caught.

She was wearing a flowing, black, satin bathrobe that she'd left open and let drape off her shoulders. Underneath, she wore just her undergarments, but they had clearly been chosen for looks, rather than function. Jacob was unable to turn his eyes from the black, lace boy-shorts that accented her long, bare legs. Her arms were crossed over her shapely stomach, and her breasts were barely contained by the black lace of her bra. Rosalyn's lips were full and pouting, and her eyes were smoky and dark. In one motion, she pulled half of her dark, tumbling hair back behind her head and clipped it in place. Then, she motioned for him.

Jacob slowly crossed to where she stood, in front of the bed. Shocked to his core, he asked, "What's going on?"

Rosalyn laughed, her voice low and husky, "Are you that naïve?"

Jacob shook his head, "No…Rosalyn, you haven't spoken to me in a week. I haven't even had a chance to apologize…"

She placed a finger on his lips, and then moved in to kiss him again. Jacob fought for control, fought to keep his focus on finding out why she was suddenly seducing him. Or perhaps just to determine if this was some sort of extraordinarily realistic dream.

Rosalyn finally pulled away and said, "It's okay. I understand."

Jacob looked at her, surprised, "You're not still angry? I mean…it seemed like I scared you, and…well...I think I know why…"

Rosalyn silenced him again, "I don't want to talk about that. You can stop trying so hard. You can have me."

Jacob felt his heart jump into his throat at her words. She was so close and so unbelievably real before him, that he was on the verge of losing all rationality. Still, he said, "Don't you think this is…sudden? I'm not asking for this Rosalyn. I want to know you…"

She cut him off again, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him flush against her. Jacob was very aware of how close to naked she was, and her body was warm against his. With practiced skill, she stepped into him so that one long, slender leg slipped between his. She pressed her hips into him, and gently kissed his lips. Then, she let her mouth trail warm, moist kisses from his ear to his collar bone. Jacob couldn't help but close his eyes and let out a soft moan as Rosalyn worked her magic. When she reached the buttons on his shirt, though, he came back to reality.

Pulling back very gently, he said, "Rosalyn…this is not what I want."

She slid back into him and, with a sly smirk, said, "Your flesh disagrees."

Jacob flushed at her words, embarrassed. When he recovered, he said, "I mean…of course I want this. But…I just don't want…"

"Stop talking," Rosalyn cut him off, "You're making this more difficult than it has to be."

She leaned in and kissed him again, long and deep, and slid her hands down over his buttocks. After a moment, she pulled away and slowly walked around behind him, trailing her fingers over his arms the entire way. Then, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, her body pressed against his back. She once again worked her mouth over his neck, and Jacob fought to keep his mind thinking clearly. However, his eyes dropped closed again. While he was lost in the feeling of her mouth on his skin, Rosalyn let one hand slide over his stomach. In one well-rehearsed gesture, she suddenly slipped her hand under the waistline of his pants, to his body beneath.

Jacob gasped, feeling shocked and afraid to move. He fought between incredible arousal, and the feeling that something was wrong.

Holding very still for a long moment, Rosalyn whispered, "You see? I knew you wanted me."

Then, she mercifully pulled away and stepped backward toward the bed. She leaned back on it, so that her body was entirely visible in the soft light. She was laid out like some sort of harem queen, the most exquisite of prizes. Jacob struggled with longing, wanting very much to go to her. However, he also came to the disturbing realization that this was very much like the one or two porn videos he'd seen in his lifetime. He certainly wasn't an expert on making love, but this all seemed very…rehearsed.

When he hesitated, Rosalyn said, "It's all right, Jacob. I'm giving you what you want. You're not forcing me. I know you're a gentleman," she purred, "So take what I'm offering."

Jacob still hesitated, "Why now, though? What made you change your mind?"

Rosalyn sighed, and a dark look flashed over her face, "I know you want me. It's all right to admit it. You aren't the first, and you won't be the last. So…here I am. I won't disappoint you."

Jacob was very still then, as he started to realize what was happening. He asked softly, "Do you really, honestly believe this is all I want from you? To be just another lover?"

Rosalyn shrugged and pouted, "You're ruining the fun."

Jacob really looked at her then. He studied the pose of her body and the perfect curve of her lips. He raked his eyes over her carefully tousled hair and her well-chosen lingerie. He realized then why this reminded him of porn. Porn was fake. It was a charade for someone else's pleasure.

Jacob swallowed and asked, "I'm ruining the fun? Are _you _having any fun?"

Rosalyn's eyes flashed, and she sat up on the bed. Jacob watched as her expression flickered from angry to terrified, before she reset her features into neutrality. He stood in front of her, completely inexperienced, and certain that every other man in the world would call him an idiot for what he was about to do. Still, he couldn't bear to take advantage of the same well-rehearsed lie she'd been using for years. He didn't want to be the guy from the lobby the other night. As much as he wanted her, he didn't want her like this.

Jacob took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves and his raging desire. He looked into Rosalyn's eyes, rather than at her body. Very slowly, he crossed the space between them. He reached over and picked up a blanket, which lay over the back of a chair. Rosalyn looked entirely confused as he opened it up and very gently placed it over her shoulders. Sitting down in front of her, he pulled the blanket around her, to cover her body. Then, he looked into her eyes again.

"Rosalyn," he started, "You are beautiful, and I do want you. I would be lying to say I don't. But I don't want you like this. I try not to be a selfish person. I'm not perfect, but I try to consider other people. I've always been that way. I will not have sex with you, and just walk away. I do not just want your body. I want your soul. I don't want a perfectly rehearsed act out of someone else's fantasy. I don't know how else to say...that I want to love you," he pressed his hand to her heart, through the blanket, "Not your body. _You_. I don't care what you've been through…or who has hurt you. There is nothing so big that it would scare me away."

Rosalyn's eyes were pools of turmoil, and she now clutched the blanket tightly. Jacob reached out and touched her face gently, "If you want me out of your life, then I've asked you before to tell me honestly, and I'll leave you alone. But don't manipulate me with sex. Don't cheapen how I feel."

Jacob leaned in then, and very gently kissed just her cheek.

He brushed her hair back and added, "You are not a Cracker Jack prize, Rosalyn. You are the rose among thorns. That's what your name means, isn't it? 'Beautiful rose'? You are not cheap or worthless. You are worth so much more to me than what this night might've been. And I'll risk you walking away forever before I'll ever, _ever_ make you feel less than the incredible woman that you are."

With that, Jacob slowly stood. He looked at her for a moment, as she sat there with her hand pressed to her cheek, where he'd kissed her. Then, before he could second-guess himself, or she could seduce him further, he walked from the room and didn't look back.


	20. Chapter 20: Changed

**Chapter 20: Changed**

Rebekah had just gotten back to her room that same night, when there was a knock at the door. She crossed the room, frustrated. She'd spent nearly half an hour looking for Jacob, and had seen no sign of him. He'd clearly either forgotten about their meeting, or Rosalyn had gotten to him first. Still, as tired as she was, Rebekah hoped it was him knocking. She just couldn't shake the idea that it was her responsibility to warn him about Rosalyn's plan.

When Rebekah pulled open the door, though, Rosalyn stood before her. She was clutching a blanket around herself, and she looked very lost. She just stood there, staring.

"Rosalyn?" Rebekah asked after moment, "Do you want to come in?"

Rosalyn shuffled through the door, still not speaking. She paced the living room while Rebekah shut the door.

After a minute, Rebekah asked, "What's going on?"

Then, she looked more closely at Rosalyn's attire. Beneath the blanket, Rebekah could see a satin bathrobe, which failed to conceal Rosalyn's bare skin beneath. After a moment, realization struck Rebekah.

"Was Jacob in your room?" she asked suddenly.

Rosalyn nodded, twisting her hands together.

"Oh Rosalyn…no…" Rebekah whispered.

Landon came out of the bedroom then, and stopped short when he saw Rosalyn. She was paying little attention to the blanket, and it had slipped from her shoulders. He quickly averted his eyes, trying to find something else to look at beside Rosalyn's nearly naked body. Rebekah stepped closer and pulled the blanket back around Rosalyn's shoulders.

Landon gave Rebekah an understanding look and said, "I think I'm gonna go see what's going on in the lobby…"

Rebekah smiled gratefully as he slipped out the door. Once he was gone, she waited for several minutes. Still, Rosalyn did not speak. She moved to the sofa and sat there, dazed. Eventually, Rebekah crossed the small space and sat next to her. She waited another moment, and then asked, "What happened?"

Rosalyn didn't answer right away, and Rebekah was growing more and more afraid that Jacob's heart had been broken. Certainly, Rosalyn was not dressed like someone who'd simply been chatting with a friend. Rebekah didn't need to see any more of what Rosalyn was wearing, or not wearing, to know that most men wouldn't simply walk away from her. No matter how good a person Jacob might be, he was still a man, Rebekah told herself.

Just as Rebekah was trying to think of something else to say, Rosalyn confessed, "He walked away from me."

Rebekah felt a glimmer of hope, "Yeah?"

Rosalyn continued, "I did everything I know to do…and it always works. No man has _ever_ walked away from me…"

Rebekah was compassionate, "I told you…he doesn't want to sleep with you."

Rosalyn shook her head, "No…he does. But he walked away…"

Rebekah tried to look into Rosalyn's eyes, "Do you believe me now? Do you believe that he really cares about you?"

Rosalyn didn't answer, and she still stared into nothingness, as though she weren't entirely present, "He said…he said I was worth more to him than…I mean, he's said he loves me before, but…this time…he could've had me…I turned it on strong, and…"

Rosalyn started to tremble, which seemed to be her reaction to too much emotional stimulus. She still struggled for words, and Rebekah reached out and took her hand, saying, "It's okay. I think I understand. You don't have to tell me everything."

There was a pause, while Rosalyn stared into space, still trembling. Rebekah just held her hand, not sure if Rosalyn wanted to talk anymore.

After a few minutes, Rosalyn stated, "Since I was eighteen…I have slept with seven hundred and fifty-two different people."

Rebekah tried not to react. She knew the ugly truth about Rosalyn's sex life. She had, on more than one occasion, tried to imagine how many there might've been. Still, to hear it out loud was shocking.

"I know exactly how many there have been, and not one of them ever walked away from me. I know exactly what to do. I know how to control them. I know their weaknesses, how to make them beg," Rosalyn explained, still staring at the wall, "It's like a show, really. You need the right costume, a believable character. If you make the right moves and say the right things, the audience responds. I know how to play this part, Rebekah. I know how to play the game, give a guy what he wants, and get rid of him. But…I don't…I don't have any idea how to love someone…"

Rebekah felt a surge of compassion, as another layer of Rosalyn's mask was peeled away. She held Rosalyn's hand tighter and said, "It's okay. You don't have to understand right now. Half the time, most of us don't understand how to love each other. And…you already have someone who loves you. Someone who can show you how to love. Other than Jacob."

"Who?" Rosalyn looked perplexed.

"Me," Rebekah said softly.

Rosalyn finally smiled.

"And you and Jacob will figure it out," Rebekah continued, "Now that you understand how he really feels, the two of you can—"

"No," Rosalyn cut her off.

"What?"

"No! I'm not starting a relationship with him."

Rebekah was once again shocked, "But why? No other man will ever love you like he does!"

"Because that's not what I need!"

"What?"

Rosalyn put her face in her hands for a moment, and she began tremble more violently.

"Rosalyn," Rebekah said softly, "I don't understand…"

Rosalyn snapped her head back up and said, "I don't need another man, Rebekah! I don't need more sex, or flowery love letters! I just…I need…"

"Hey," Rebekah put her hands on Rosalyn's shoulders, trying to calm the trembling, "It's okay…I'm sorry. I'm pushing things on you again."

Rosalyn wrung her hands, and her voice was shaking. She seemed close to hysteria, and she could barely get out words, "Tonight…with Jacob, was like every other night, Rebekah. At first. Kissing him…touching him…I'm numb to it. I've been numb for years. I know the moves, and I don't even think anymore. But…when he kissed me on the cheek…I felt more things in that moment than I've felt in ten years…"

Rebekah's breath caught as she watched Rosalyn's eyes suddenly flood with tears. She'd never seen Rosalyn cry. Not once, in all the years she'd known her. She'd never witnessed so much as a single tear. Rebekah was frozen for a moment, totally unsure of how to respond.

"I just…I need…I need…" Rosalyn struggled for words, and her voice caught as the tears spilled down her cheeks. She gave in to it then, and gave up trying to speak. It was as though, finally, the dam had broken. Jacob's act of selflessness had sent her spiraling into a place where the walls came down. She dropped her face in her hands and her body shook with sobs.

Rebekah felt a rush of overwhelming compassion. She got up and retrieved a box of tissues from the bedroom. She set them on the table in front of the sofa, and she brushed Rosalyn's hair back from her face.

"It's okay," she said softly, "I understand. You need _this_. You need to get rid of some stuff. You have a lot of hurt…and a relationship is a lot of work. You're right. You don't need that right now."

Rosalyn didn't answer, as the tears continued to come. For nearly an hour, Rebekah sat there with her. She put an arm over Rosalyn's shoulders and handed her tissues to dry her eyes. She gently smoothed her hair back from her face and said nothing, as Rosalyn cried herself out. Finally, with her breath coming in gasps, Rosalyn leaned into Rebekah and was still. Rebekah held onto her for another few minutes, still saying nothing.

Eventually, Rosalyn whispered, "I know I'm not making a lot of sense right now. It's just…I know that Jacob is an incredible person. He made me feel like…like a woman. I've never felt that. Growing up, I went straight from being a scared, little girl…to being a cheap whore…"

Rebekah reached around and handed Rosalyn another tissue. Then, she got up and went to the bedroom. She came back with an oversized t-shirt that she often slept in. She moved the blanket, which had dropped from Rosalyn's shoulders, and she carefully helped Rosalyn rid herself of the bathrobe. Silently, Rebekah helped her put on the shirt, to cover her body.

Then, she said, "I know that Jacob wouldn't want you to rush into anything you're not ready for. He loves you that much."

Rosalyn almost smiled, "I know…I'm just not ready to love someone. All I've felt for thirteen years is anger, and this numbness…"

Rebekah continued to smooth Rosalyn's hair away from her face, "Rosalyn," she started carefully, "can you promise me something?"

"What?"

Rebekah took a deep breath, "Can you promise not to sleep with anyone else? Can you promise not to bring one more guy that you don't know back to your room?"

Rosalyn hesitated, and her face was a maelstrom of emotion. Finally, she answered, "I've tried, Rebekah. I mean…that's what I want…"

Rebekah took her hands again, "What if we start with a month? Until we leave Chicago? You've already made it through two weeks, before. And I'll be here for you. I promise. Even if it's three AM. Can you promise me one month?"

Rosalyn took a shaking breath, and nodded.

* * *

The following afternoon, when they all filtered in to the theater for the evening show, Rebekah went looking for Jacob. She found him in his dressing room, haphazardly flipping through a magazine. He looked distracted, and Rebekah watched him for a minute, trying to decide what she wanted to say.

"Jacob," he turned when she spoke.

"Hey," he said, turning towards the door.

She stepped inside, trying to find the right words.

After a moment, Jacob asked, "Is something wrong?"

Rebekah shook her head, deciding to be direct, "What did you did last night…you have no idea how important that was."

There was a flicker of hope in Jacob's eyes, "So Rosalyn told you?"

"Yeah. It was a hard night for her. But I think it had to happen."

Jacob nodded, "I know I'm probably an idiot for walking away…but I just couldn't do that to her."

Rebekah sat down in the chair across from him and said, "No…you're not an idiot. You're just different. And different is exactly what Rosalyn needed."

"Is she upset with me?" Jacob asked carefully.

Rebekah shook her head, "No. She's…shocked by you. I know this is hard to believe, but she's never been treated like a person. Not by a man. Ever," Rebekah paused, struggling with how much to reveal, "She was hurt very badly, Jacob. At a very young age."

Jacob's expression darkened, and he said, "Sometimes…I hurt for her. Is that ridiculous?"

"No…it's sweet," Rebekah answered.

Jacob was silent for a long time, and he stared at his hands, thinking. After some time, he asked, "Do you think there's any chance for us? Do you think she'll ever want me?"

Rebekah considered him, trying to find the right words, "I think…I think she does want you, Jacob. But I don't think she can love you right now. I think she has a lot of things to work through."

"I can understand that," he said softly.

"Look…just…keep being there for her, okay? Keep showing her what a good man is like."

Jacob nodded, his expression cautiously hopeful.

* * *

The following days and weeks began a process for Rosalyn. Both she and Rebekah realized that it was time to strip away the mask, and face the wounds that had been festering for so many years. It was no simple matter, though. Rebekah knew there was a very different person underneath Rosalyn's hard exterior, but she failed to realize how infected the wounds underneath that exterior had become. Buried under layers of emotional bandages, Rosalyn's soul was raw and hurting. Stripping away her façade would not be easy. But it was time. It was time to cleanse the wounds, to drain the pit of bitterness and fear that had begun to grow the day Rosalyn's father had selfishly ripped away her innocence. Like a landfill covered by fresh new grass, or the Yellowstone caldera, covered by the beauty of a natural park, Rosalyn was filled with rotten trash and churning anger. It was time to pull back the carefully manicured beauty, and go beneath.

And Rebekah, in her limited experience, quickly discovered that it was a difficult process. Over the next few weeks, Rebekah witnessed a dramatic change in Rosalyn's personality. The same woman who had been aloof and harsh, was suddenly somber and almost clingy. She would stare out the window in her room for long periods of time and say absolutely nothing. She would talk in monotone while Rebekah listened, recounting horrific stories that made Rebekah shudder. She would get angry and tremble, and then run to the bathroom and vomit, as though her body was physically trying to rid itself of the memories.

Rosalyn would snap at Jacob, and even Landon, when they tried to make conversation. She could hardly tolerate them one day, and then the next she would look at them, doe-eyed, and barely smile in her own kind of apology. Out of his abiding love for Rebekah, Landon was eternally tolerant, choosing to walk away when Rosalyn started screaming and slamming doors. Jacob often appeared wounded, but he moved on, refusing to pout or give in to sulking.

Rebekah also began checking on Rosalyn each day, because she had started spending whole days in her room. She would still be in her pajamas just before call time, staring out the window. She even called out and missed a couple of shows, claiming to be sick. Rosalyn had missed very few shows in the entire run, and Rebekah understood that it took a lot keep Rosalyn from the stage. When she'd checked on her after one of those nights, Rebekah had found Rosalyn curled up in bed, listening to her iPod. She had her hands over her face, and the blankets twisted around herself.

Rebekah sat down quietly on the bed, and then slid close enough to put her hand on Rosalyn's shoulder. Rosalyn turned wide, tormented eyes on Rebekah, and removed the headphones. She dropped the iPod softly on the bed, and studied her hands.

After a moment, Rosalyn said in a faraway voice, "You know…none of them ever knew my name. Not one of them," she picked at the bed linens, "Not that I have the right to be upset. I seduced them. I picked them out and used them, too…"

Rebekah squeezed Rosalyn's hand, and brushed her tangled hair back from her face once again, "Rosalyn…the difference is, those guys _knew _they were being used. They were relieved to be off the hook when it was over."

"Maybe," Rosalyn still stared into nothingness, "You know…the first one…he was the father of a girl who lived down the hall from me in school, freshman year. He was obviously older, and recently divorced. He was bold enough to show an interest in me, and…it was like this high, this rush of power to know that I could control him. It was like…suddenly, I was the one who got to use them…and kick them out. My roommate thought I was using them for sex. She thought I was some kind of nymphomaniac. But…I was using them for that rush of power. And I wouldn't give them my name. Ever. It was like…that would be just one more thing they could take from me. And I didn't want anyone to take from me ever again."

Rebekah listened, compassionate, and then said, "I understand, Rosalyn. And I'm not here to judge you."

Rosalyn swallowed over more unspoken things, and then said, "I think…I just need to get it out, you know?"

Rebekah slid next to Rosalyn and put her arms around her again, "Yeah…I know."

Rebekah stayed a long time that night, just sitting there while Rosalyn was lost in her thoughts. She stayed until Rosalyn finally fell asleep, and then covered her carefully with her blankets. And when she left the room, she prayed there wouldn't be nightmares.

That was something else that Rebekah had started to experience as the weeks passed. Not only did she sit up with Rosalyn on the nights she was most tempted to go out, watching old reruns or just sipping coffee, but she had been awakened more than once by Rosalyn knocking on the door in the wee hours of the morning. The first time, Rosalyn had haltingly tried to explain how the nightmares would wake her up, and then keep her awake until dawn. As Rosalyn had explained, Rebekah suddenly had a flashback to the year they had spent as roommates, and she remembered having woken to find Rosalyn awake in bed, trembling. It was another thing that now, painfully, made sense. So on the nights the nightmares came, Rebekah, in her constant, compassionate way, would watch bad infomercials with Rosalyn until she fell asleep on the couch.

During this time, Rebekah was also eternally grateful for Landon's support, as he patiently tolerated her late-night rendezvous with Rosalyn. He would kiss her softly when she came back to bed after sitting up with her friend, and he brewed coffee each morning after letting her sleep late. He was also compassionate enough not to ask questions when Rebekah would check on Rosalyn each night, to make sure she was in her room.

On more than one occasion, when she could tell that Rosalyn was struggling the most, Rebekah would climb into Rosalyn's bed and wrap her arms around her friend. They would lay there, sometimes without saying a word, like sisters hiding from the fury of a storm. In those times, Rosalyn was usually very quiet. She had not cried again, but the struggle was still in her eyes. Rebekah stayed with her, because she knew how important her presence was. She understood how much Rosalyn needed to be touched in ways that were not sexual. She understood, somehow, that Rosalyn needed to know that love was real and that friendship could last. She needed to be valued for something more than her body.

On one such night, as they lay in the dark, Rosalyn took a shaking breath and asked, "Rebekah…when you and Landon have sex…do you enjoy it?"

Rebekah flushed, because this was a topic she'd never been comfortable with. She was comfortable with Landon, in the privacy of their bedroom, but she was otherwise terribly modest. Even Hayleigh hadn't been privy to the details of her intimate life. In the moment, Rebekah was sure there was some sort of cosmic irony in the fact that it was she whom God had chosen to answer these questions. For Rosalyn sake, though, Rebekah took a deep breath, and answered, "Yes."

Rosalyn was silent for a moment, and then asked, "Do you think it's as great as they make it out to be? Guys, I mean. Do you think…I mean…is it the same…for a woman?"

Rebekah chewed her lip, trying to work through her automatic embarrassment, "Um…yes, I think. I mean…I think it's…different. But…I definitely think it's…amazing."

Rosalyn paused, "This is hard, for you isn't it?"

"Yes," Rebekah whispered.

"Why?" Rosalyn asked flatly.

Rebekah thought for a moment, then answered, "I don't know. I've just always been…shy about stuff like that. Maybe because I didn't have any siblings. Or because my mom didn't really talk about it."

Rosalyn was quiet for a few minutes, and then confessed, "I was like that, when I was young. I was terrified of buying my first bra. I didn't even really understand how everything…you know…worked…before…"

Rebekah took Rosalyn's hand, as she struggled with the memories.

"I hadn't even had a period yet...when it started happening," Rosalyn said softly, "and when I finally did, he got really angry…and my mother pretended it didn't happen. My friend had to take me to the drugstore…"

Rebekah turned and brushed Rosalyn's hair back again, which was a gesture she'd learned had a calming effect. She thought it might stem from some sort of need Rosalyn had to feel protected, like a child being soothed by her mother.

Rebekah swallowed hard, still trying to get comfortable with the topic, "That's horrible, Rosalyn. Everyone should have their mother for that. Or at least a parent…"

Rosalyn paused, lost in her thoughts again. Eventually, she asked carefully, "Does it hurt? To have sex with Landon?"

Rebekah deep a breath and said, "No."

Rosalyn stared at the ceiling, her eyes full of confusion, "That first time it happened…I cried. I cried for hours. It hurt so bad…and I was terrified. And then, after a while…I just thought something was wrong with me. I mean…it seemed so great on TV and stuff. And eventually, when I got to college and started sleeping around, I just decided that that's how it's supposed to be."

Rebekah struggled with herself for a minute, and her cheeks burned with what she was trying to say. Still, she knew it was important that she say it.

"Rosalyn," she started, "It's not supposed to be that way. Sex is supposed to be an incredible experience between you and another person. It should feel incredible. It can make you laugh and scream and cry…but all in a good way. It can be gentle and sweet…or mind blowing and leave you breathless. That's what it should be. And I promise you…as a woman…you can have that. But only if you want."

Rosalyn was quiet again, considering. Then, she said, "At the piano, when Jacob kissed me, I didn't run because I was afraid."

Rebekah waited for a minute, wondering if she would continue.

"I ran because…that was the first time I've ever felt…anything like that. He kissed me, and it felt like he lit me on fire."

Rebekah stroked Rosalyn's hair some more, and said, "That's how it's supposed to be. That's what it feels like…when you love that other person."

Rosalyn said nothing further, as she lost herself in her thoughts again.

And so, in some ways, Rebekah and Rosalyn's friendship grew closer even than Rebekah's lifelong bond with Hayleigh. Not that she would ever give up her best friend, but Rebekah had begun to realize that Rosalyn was now a permanent part of her life. This girl whom she'd loathed and wished would disappear was now cemented in her future. Rosalyn was the wild and tumultuous wind that had stirred up the calm, serenity of her existence. Rosalyn was the storm that shook the trees and stirred the earth of Rebekah's life, making her examine herself and her faith. Rosalyn made her face the things in the world most people turn away from, and pretend they don't exist. And as she worked to change Rosalyn, Rebekah found herself changed.

* * *

The beginning of April finally brought an end to the snow and the bitter cold that had made sightseeing, or even just going out, almost unbearable. Suddenly, the weather was a bit warmer, and the snow melted away, leaving only crusty bits on the banks of the lake and the gutters of the streets. The other cast members finally took advantage of the richness of the city of Chicago, visiting some of the museums and checking out restaurants that were more than a couple blocks from the hotel.

With the change of seasons, also came the news that Dominic would not be returning to the cast. He leg would require another surgery in a couple of months, and he and the company could not work out an agreement to renew his contract. Therefore, Jacob was now up for the rest of the run. It wasn't much of a surprise to any of them, but it allowed the leads to finally grab hold of the idea that they were a team. They were a group dependent upon each other, and they no longer feared losing the chemistry that was bonding them fiercely. Their director sat down with Rosalyn, Rebekah, and Jacob the day he broke the news to the cast, and complimented them on their work.

"This has been a surprise cast for me," he said, "I wouldn't have picked the three of you to work this well together. But you've got magic going on. Keep it up."

They nodded, and celebrated later by going out for a late lunch before the show. It was a good time, and they were all in good spirits. When Rebekah returned to get ready for the performance that night, Cassie stopped by her dressing room and came in, unannounced.

"Hey," Rebekah said, surprised.

"Hey," Cassie offered in return, "So…we were going to offer to take Jacob out after the show tonight, to celebrate his permanent casting, but I guess you guys beat us to it."

Rebekah raised an eyebrow, "We just had lunch."

"But you didn't tell any of us," Cassie pouted.

"When did it start to matter? I didn't think you liked Rosalyn anyway," Rebekah defended.

"I just…you and Jacob are fun to hang out with, and lately…you've been all…moodified," Cassie pouted.

"Really?" Rebekah asked sarcastically, "You're going to use that word?"

Cassie rolled her eyes, "I'm just trying to make you laugh."

"You're a better Galinda than me, Cassie. You should fill in more often."

"Well…get sick more often," Cassie teased.

Rebekah rolled her eyes, "Are you really mad at me?"

Cassie sighed, "No…I just…I thought we were friends, you know? And then you hung out with us a few times in Nashville, and now…I never see you. And what's going on with Rosalyn? I mean…you hate her and she's awful…and then suddenly you're like…lovers or something."

Rebekah groaned, "That's awesome, Cassie. That's exactly the rumor we need going around here."

"Well…you've never explained why you like her," Cassie demanded.

Rebekah sighed, "She's my friend. There's a lot you don't know, and that's all I'm going to say. There's more to this life than just applause and hanging out with your friends, Cassie. If my friendship with Rosalyn is too weird for you, I understand. Just…don't come yell at me for it."

Cassie looked a little more compassionate, "All right, fine. You're right. Just…come out with us some time? Please?"

Rebekah smiled, "Sure."

Cassie bounced away then, placated.

Across the hall, in Rosalyn's dressing room, Jacob tried to tell her how glad he was to be finishing the run with her. He wasn't sure, at this point, if it mattered to her who played opposite her, but he wanted her to know it meant something to him.

He knocked on the doorframe, and when she turned toward him, he said, "I just want you to know, I'm glad to be your Fiyero, permanently. It's an honor."

Rosalyn smiled a little, as she looked through her hanging costumes.

"I mean it, Rosalyn. It's an honor to play opposite you. Regardless of my feelings, you're incredibly talented."

"You're not bad yourself," Rosalyn answered wryly.

He took a step towards her, and added, "After this run, it'll be really difficult to work with someone else. There's just something about you, as a performer…"

Rosalyn gave another weak smile, and Jacob stepped in and touched her arm, as an encouragement. She jumped backward, shoving him away at the same time.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked irrationally.

Jacob stepped back, his expression still calm, "All right," he said, "I'm sorry."

He held her gaze for a minute, to show her he meant it. Then, he walked way, leaving her to get ready.

It was in moments like those, that it was obvious Jacob had changed as well. His decision to walk away from Rosalyn that night had somehow translated into a calm, patient spirit he hadn't possessed before. He surprised even himself, with how he'd stopped staring at Rosalyn with pleading eyes. Her rejection no longer translated into him sulking and pouting. Instead, he demonstrated quiet strength. He talked to her, complimented her, and he kept his distance. He let her cling to Rebekah and, even without knowing her whole story, understood that she needed the space. In taking a step back, he appreciated her all the more. He hoped for her healing. And he hoped that, someday, she might be able share her story with him. He hoped she might just start to trust him. For the moment, that was as far as he hoped.


	21. Chapter 21: A Time to Scatter Stones

**So...I'm sorry for using this excerpt from Ecclesiastes again, but I'm just really fond of it, and parts of this story were created long before I ever wrote A Time for Rain. I decided to keep it in here.**

**Also...to my reviewer who asked, I have not published anything yet, but I am working on it now. For those of you who might be interested, there is a chance that this story, with some significant changes, might be the first thing I publish. I've been working on this one for many years now. Rosalyn has been with me for a long time. So...I'll let you know. :-)**

**Chapter 21: A Time to Scatter Stones**

About four weeks into their run in Chicago, Hayleigh flew in for a couple of days on a break between her shows in Charlotte. She and Rebekah had been separated for more than two months this time, and they were both itching to spend some time together. Prior to her arrival, though, Rebekah had spent some time on the phone explaining to Hayleigh about Rosalyn. She didn't want to lose Rosalyn's trust, and Rebekah communicated only what was necessary, but she felt that Hayleigh had to understand what had transpired. Her relationship with Rosalyn had become too close over the past few months for her to keep it from Hayleigh. She also knew that no one would tolerate Rosalyn's erratic behavior without at a least a semblance of explanation.

Hayleigh had shown compassion, as Rebekah expected, and promised to get along. She left Charlotte on a Tuesday morning and dropped off Maddelyn with her parents in Collins, before catching a flight from Atlanta to Chicago. She arrived late that night, and knocked on Rebekah's door just as she and Landon were going to bed. Rebekah let her in, and Landon rolled his eyes as they started squealing and laughing. Rebekah shot him a look, and he gave her a reassuring smile before heading to the bedroom. Then, the girls giggled through their plans for the next couple of days. For Rebekah, it was a relief. She suddenly realized how worn she was from supporting Rosalyn for the past few weeks. It was nice to be laughing and chatting about such mundane subjects as lunch.

The following day, she and Hayleigh went out for breakfast, and sat talking almost until lunch time. Hayleigh told stories about Maddelyn and how she was turning into a little girl, from a toddler. Rebekah talked about the show, and the few glitches they'd had in performance. They laughed over pranks the cast had pulled, and Hayleigh threatened to put on a monkey costume and join the show. Then, Hayleigh told Rebekah about the offer she'd received.

"They asked me to go on tour," Hayleigh said softly, "Andrew Preston's company wants me. They're sort of modern, with a lyrical touch. It would be incredible…"

"So…do it," Rebekah encouraged.

"I don't know…there's Maddelyn…"

"There's gotta be a way."

Hayleigh smiled, "I'm working on it. You know me. I'll make it work, or move on."

"Yeah…" Rebekah smiled, hoping for her friend that it would work out.

They left the restaurant then, and headed back to the hotel room to watch a movie. Once they arrived, Rebekah left Hayleigh to dig through their relatively pathetic collection of movies, while she did her obligatory check on Rosalyn. Rebekah knocked on the door, listening for movement inside. After a moment, the door opened. Rosalyn did not look good. Her hair was a frazzled mess. She was wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and eating ice cream from the container.

"Is that breakfast?" Rebekah asked, trying to keep her tone light.

Rosalyn nodded.

Rebekah sighed, "Come on," she ordered, "you're coming to watch a movie with us."

"Who?" Rosalyn looked bewildered.

"Me and Hayleigh. I told you she was coming."

"Oh."

Rebekah drug Rosalyn from the room, ice cream and all. She had learned through this process that there were times for long, deep conversation, and there were times for distraction. So Rebekah pulled Rosalyn down the hall and into her own room, where Hayleigh was studying a stack of DVDs.

"Can we watch this?" Hayleigh held up a movie.

"Are you serious?" Rebekah asked, "Again?"

"It's so sweet," Hayleigh pouted, and then stopped when she saw Rosalyn. Based on her expression, she was shocked at how different this person was from the woman she'd seen only months before. Gone were the perfect beauty and the plastic smirk. This frazzled, unkempt person was a far cry from the Rosalyn she knew. Hayleigh offered a compassionate smile, and held up her movie.

Rosalyn shrugged in return and said, "I've never seen that."

"Seriously?" Hayleigh squeaked, "but it's _Forrest Gump_! It's an epic."

Rosalyn shrugged again, "I haven't seen a lot of movies."

"And I'm not sure I'd call it an _epic_," Rebekah rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. We're watching it," Hayleigh snapped open the case and put the movie in.

Rebekah pulled Rosalyn to the couch and sat her down, and Hayleigh plopped into the chair. Retrieving a spoon, Rebekah helped herself to Rosalyn's ice cream. Rosalyn swatted at her, and her spirits were clearly raised from the camaraderie, however forced. For the next little while, they all watched the movie in comfortable silence. Even Rosalyn seemed to be enjoying the sweet, if somewhat syrupy, story of Forrest's life. That is, until he met Jenny. When they reached the scene where young Forrest goes looking for Jenny at her house, Rebekah felt her stomach twist. She held her breath, suddenly remembering a key point in the plot of the movie. She made a move to grab the remote, but it was across the room, and the narration continued, unabated.

As Jenny ran into the cornfield and then prayed to be a bird, so she might fly far away from her sexually abusive father, Rebekah glanced sideways at Rosalyn. She saw her clench her hands into fists, and set her lips into a thin line. Rebekah leaned over and whispered, "Do you want to watch something else?"

Rosalyn was very still for moment, and then shook her head, "No," she whispered, and Rebekah noted that she was not trembling. Rosalyn took Rebekah's hand and squeezed it in reassurance. Rebekah smiled a little, proud at how her friend was starting to work through her feelings, rather than just react. It was a good sign, she thought.

Rebekah sat back then and, still holding Rosalyn's hand, let the movie continue. They all laughed and cried with the story, even with two of them having seen it several times. Rosalyn even smiled and chuckled a few times, and eventually let go of Rebekah's hand. They had all relaxed, and made it nearly to the end, when Rosalyn stiffened again. The movie had reached the point at which Jenny returns to her childhood home, and finally confronts the demons of her past. Rosalyn seemed to be stoically tolerating it, until Jenny began throwing rocks at the house. When the character crumpled into a heap and cried, Rosalyn balled her hands into fists and covered her face. Rebekah could tell she was having trouble keeping her emotions in check, and she considered what to say.

Oddly enough, it was Hayleigh who spoke up. She stopped the movie, and watched Rosalyn for a minute. However, she did not placate or offer soothing words of wisdom. Instead, she offered, "Rosalyn…you don't know me that well, so feel free to slap me, but…would you like to throw some rocks?"

Rosalyn looked both wary and confused, but she dropped her hands and listened.

"Look," Hayleigh continued, "I don't know everything about you, and you've got no reason to trust me. But if Rebekah loves you, then I'll be damned if I'll let you hurt like this. I think, if you want to throw something, you ought to be able to throw something," she paused, "Will you come with me?"

Rosalyn still studied Hayleigh, unsure.

Rebekah looked into Rosalyn's face, adding, "I know she sounds crazy, but I've known this woman for my entire life. She means well…and she's smacked me into shape more than once."

Rosalyn looked both guarded and intrigued, as she considered Hayleigh. They had had very few interactions with each other, beyond school, but Hayleigh was not one to mince words. She addressed things with raw honesty, and it seemed Rosalyn could appreciate that. And neither Rebekah nor Rosalyn could deny that Hayleigh had sounded both fiercely loyal and genuinely concerned just then.

Hayleigh headed toward the door then, slipping on her shoes and grabbing a jacket, "Well…are you coming?"

Still puzzled, Rosalyn hesitated. Rebekah took her by the hand and pulled her from the couch. Then, she drug her out the door and to her own room. She nearly had to dress Rosalyn herself, making her put on shoes and a warm coat. Pulling her away from the mirror, she said, "No one's even going to see you. And besides…you're always gorgeous. You're gorgeous wearing a trash bag. Heck, you're even gorgeous painted green."

That elicited a tiny smile from Rosalyn, and Rebekah was able to pull her out the door. Once downstairs, Hayleigh took the lead as they walked. She led them one block south, and then headed towards the lakefront. To the average passerby, it would seem like Hayleigh had been navigating the city of Chicago her whole life. In reality, only Rebekah knew that her best friend plowed forward on pure instinct, and her fearless nature. Somehow though, only stopping once to ask for help, Hayleigh managed to get them to the lakefront in about a half an hour.

Since it was early on a weekday, and the weather was still a bit chilly, there were few other sightseers out that afternoon. The clouds that threatened rain had sent most of them in search of indoor attractions, leaving the boardwalk and sandy beaches almost vacant. Hayleigh led the way down to the water, crossing the boardwalk and boldly stepping out onto the sand. Stopping along the way, she picked up every stone she could find. She halted at the edge of water, and turned to Rosalyn.

Dropping a stone in her hand, she said, "Here."

Rosalyn looked baffled.

"Go on," Hayleigh urged, "throw as hard as you can."

Rosalyn just stared at the stone, and this tiny, crazy person in front of her.

Hayleigh pulled herself to her full height of barely five feet. She tucked her wind blown hair behind her ears, and stated, "Back home…whenever anyone told me I was too short or too small, or not long-limbed enough to ever be cast as a dancer, I would do this. Whenever my brothers teased me and broke my stuff, I did this. We had a pond near our houses, Rebekah and me. I would go there and pitch stones until I nearly passed out, but it made me feel better. It was like…I was throwing all that bad stuff into the water…and then it didn't matter…so much, anyway."

Rosalyn's expression conveyed understanding, but she still hesitated.

"Go on," Hayleigh said, with firm compassion.

Rosalyn looked to Rebekah, who said softly, "Do it. There's a reason why I've kept Hayleigh around all these years."

Rosalyn set her features in an expression of grim resolve, and turned the stone over in her hand. After a moment, she took a few steps toward the edge of the water, and hurled the stone into the vast expanse of the lake. Then, Hayleigh gave her another, and another. Rosalyn was hesitant, at first, but as she continued, she seemed to channel Jenny's sentiment from the movie they had been watching. She went through all the stones Hayleigh had found, and then found her own, hurling them in rapid succession. Finally, she picked whatever else she could find on the beach, and flung it into the lapping surface of the lake. Exhausted, Rosalyn finally dropped to her knees in the sand, breathing hard.

Rebekah went to her then, and sat down beside her. Hayleigh joined them, dropping onto the sand. They didn't speak for a few minutes, until Hayleigh said, "You know that Bible verse about there being a time for everything? You know, 'a time to be born and a time to die' and such? One of those lines says, 'a time to scatter stones'. I'm no Bible scholar, but I've always liked to think that this is what they meant by that. I mean…there's a time to cry, of course, but sometimes…you just need to throw something."

Rebekah smiled, because Hayleigh had a way of slipping into her distinct, north Georgia accent at times like this. Then, she looked at Rosalyn, who was very still. She seemed content, though, peaceful even.

Hayleigh continued, "When you wanna cry, you've gotta cry. But when you get angry, you've gotta have something like this," she picked up another stone and placed it in Rosalyn's hand, "You need to do this whenever you just have to get something out. Because it works. And if it ever doesn't, you call me, and I'll teach you how to punch one of my brothers and then run before they catch you."

Rosalyn smiled at that, and Rebekah was grateful to Hayleigh for offering this part of herself to Rosalyn. It was, at that moment, that Rebekah felt the birth of a friendship between the three of them. They were all very different, like the three farthest points on a triangle, but they made something together. Hayleigh had always been the one to drive Rebekah forward. Hayleigh was as impulsive as Rebekah was uncertain. She was as direct as Rebekah was discreet. And now, she was the other side of what Rosalyn needed as well. Where Rebekah was silent strength, holding her through the tears, Hayleigh was action, calling on Rosalyn to take hold of her pain and cast it away. The three of them, together, suddenly made sense.

And even Rosalyn seemed to understand that. As they sat there on the lakeshore, not speaking, volumes were communicated. Rosalyn was still, quiet, and looking out at the water with steely resolve. Eventually, she reached out and took both Rebekah and Hayleigh's hands, in her own expression of gratitude.

* * *

In order to give the girls the afternoon to themselves, Landon had decided to see if Jacob wanted to get out of the hotel and do something together. Jacob, having very little else to do, was grateful. However, after mulling over their choices of activities, they discovered they were limited in what they could do on a Wednesday afternoon. Both of them were active, but not particularly adventuresome. Jacob got most of his exercise from running, and Landon had to make himself work out weekly. Therefore, because they were feeling too lazy to be creative, they ended up bowling.

At the alley, dressed in questionable shoes and sharing a pizza, Landon lined up for his frame, and hit one pin. Returning dejectedly, he stated, "We are the two worst bowlers in the history of time."

Jacob laughed, "Yeah…we really should've thought this through…"

"Well, it was this or ice skating. And I can promise you, that would've been worse," Landon chuckled.

Jacob laughed, "Yes, definitely."

They played the last few frames of their game, and then took a break to concentrate on eating. Since the alley was fairly empty, they stayed at their lane and devoured the pizza.

Sipping a soda, Landon hesitantly asked, "Can I tell you something in confidence?"

Jacob smiled, "Sure. You've had to listen to my middle-of-the-night ramblings. And I most appreciate your keeping those in…confidence."

Landon set down his drink and said, "No problem," he paused, "So…I think…when this tour is over, I'm going to ask Rebekah to marry me."

Jacob grinned, saying, "That's awesome. You're awesome together."

"Thanks. I'm really lucky to have her…especially considering all the time we've spent apart. But she's been talking about wanting to stay in one place for a while, after this. She loves the stage…I know, but I think…she won't be happy with just that forever. I think she wants a family."

Jacob looked thoughtful, "I can understand that, I guess. I mean, some people tour forever, because they love it. And some get burnt out and settle somewhere. It's a hard career, you know."

Landon sighed, "I just want Becca to be happy. I want to be with her, always, but I don't want to hold her back."

Jacob was sympathetic, "Yeah…but, you know, she's pretty grounded. She'll tell you what she wants. And I know she'll marry you. She loves you. Everyone can see that."

Landon smiled then, "You know, you're not so bad at the advice, either."

Jacob smirked, "I occasionally think of something somewhat profound to say. And it's a bonus if I don't immediate cancel it out with something stupid."

Landon laughed heartily, and then looked thoughtful before asking, "So…and this is hypothetical and not meant to open up anything you don't want to deal with right now, but…if you and Rosalyn ever got together…would you marry her?"

Jacob cocked his head and look around, thinking. After a long time, he said, "Yes."

"Even knowing about...all the other guys?" Landon asked carefully.

Jacob was quiet, understanding that Landon's question was not meant as a jab at Rosalyn, but to make him look at the reality of what he was dealing with. For a lot of people, Rosalyn's past would be too much to accept. Jacob drew a long breath, though, and said, "Still...yes...but I'm not sure that's what she would want. I don't know that she'll ever be the type to be so…domestic. I mean…I can't imagine her without the stage. The way she sings…the way she embraces a character…I don't think she'll ever give it up. But I'd gladly go along with her…forever."

Landon smiled compassionately, as Jacob momentarily lost himself in the idea of it.

"Jacob," he said after a minute, "Bowling?"

Jacob shook his head, "Yeah…sorry. I'm done."

Then, out of boredom and perhaps a desire for punishment, they paid for another game.

* * *

Over the next two days, Rosalyn was happier and more alive than Rebekah had seen her in some time. A part of her wanted to be jealous that, somehow, it was Hayleigh who seemed to have brought her out of her depression. However, she couldn't make the feeling stick. Hayleigh was a ball of energy who never minced words, and as much as she'd hated Rosalyn, she now tried to care about her. When it came down to it, Rebekah had to admit, it was a compliment to how much Hayleigh loved Rebekah. For her best friend, she was willing to accept Rosalyn, and try to show her what friendship looked like. And ultimately, Rebekah told herself, it was not so much Hayleigh that had made the difference, but the fact that Rosalyn had been included in their relationship. For the past two days, Rosalyn had been part of something. She was accepted by two very different women who shared a lifelong bond. For the woman who'd never had a female friend, that was significant.

So Rebekah was content with what transpired those two days. They went shopping and walked the lakefront together. They went out for lunch and got their nails done. Rosalyn, finally showing a hint of her wry sense of humor, made jokes with the manicurist about having to bring her own, unique, green polish. They stayed up and drank coffee together, and Hayleigh had even made sure she had a ticket for both of the shows on the nights she was visiting. She cheered for Rebekah and Rosalyn, and raved about how far they'd come in their performance.

"I believe you now," she said after their second show, on her last night in Chicago, "You believably hate each other, and you believably love each other."

Rosalyn had smiled at that, looking strangely proud of herself. It was a rarity, to see her show that it mattered, and Rebekah was touched at how Hayleigh's words affected Rosalyn. She was also still touched, and surprised, at how significant Hayleigh's visit had been.

So, when it was time for Hayleigh to leave, as she was packing her things, Rebekah said to her, "You've done a good thing while you were here, you know?"

Hayleigh smiled, and said, "I haven't done anything I wouldn't do for you."

Rebekah smiled in return, and pulled Hayleigh into a sudden embrace.

"Look," Hayleigh said, when she finally disentangled herself, "Just…help her find something to laugh at…even something to scream at. Don't let her give up. Don't let her be defeated. I know you are a great listener…but keep her doing something."

Rebekah looked into Hayleigh's bright, determined, green eyes, and said, "Thank you. For sharing our friendship."

Hayleigh just smiled.

And then, that afternoon, she was on a plane back to Atlanta, and then Charlotte. Rebekah was a little sad, as always, but she was glad for the time they'd had. It had been fun and important at the same time. She was glad for what Rosalyn had been able to experience, and for what Hayleigh had been able to give that she couldn't. Overall, Rebekah was in good spirits, even though she knew she and her best friend would be separated again for some time.

Rosalyn, however, seemed suddenly melancholy. Rebekah had somewhat expected the reaction, since her friend was still so fragile, emotionally. She tried to cheer her up and promised there would be more times when the three of them could be together. She encouraged Rosalyn, hinting at how glad she was that she had accepted Hayleigh and what she had to offer. Rebekah began to realize, though, that Rosalyn's change in mood didn't just stem from Hayleigh's departure. She realized they were now just three days away from leaving Chicago, and Rebekah suddenly, very clearly, remembered the specifics of Rosalyn's promise to her.

_What if we start with one month? Until we leave Chicago? Can you promise me one month?_

To Rebekah, it seemed so obvious how much difference one month had made. Rosalyn had been able to rid of herself of so many secrets. She had laughed and cried, and spent time with people who loved her. She was in the company of friends, instead of in the empty arms of selfish lovers. Still, for Rosalyn, it was more complicated. When Rebekah looked at her, she could see the internal struggle. The men were Rosalyn's Novocain. They were the drug that let her be numb, to pretend she was heartless. Without them, she had to feel. Turning to Rebekah was both cathartic and terribly painful, because to feel, meant facing her demons. The more time she spent away from the men, the more Rosalyn had to decide who she really was. If she wiped away the label of 'whore', then she had to know who else she was. As Rebekah started to understand, the whole idea was terrifying. Rosalyn had never considered who she might be, underneath her façade.

So, for the moment, Rebekah tried to get her to focus on the shows. She wanted Rosalyn to look at herself and see the things she was the best at. She wanted Rosalyn to understand that her talent existed separate from everything she'd been through. Although, she tried to tell Rosalyn, the shows couldn't completely define her, she was an incredibly talented singer and actor. She was good in spite of what she'd been through, not because of it. Still, Rosalyn struggled. Like an addict reaching the end of a stint in rehab, Rebekah could tell that she was warring terribly with her vices.

* * *

On the afternoon of their last show in Chicago, Rebekah made a point of visiting Rosalyn before the five-minute call. She found her sitting at her dressing table, fully costumed, and staring into nothingness. She was the picture of her character, dressed in the dark blue, first-act jacket and skirt. Her wig was carefully braided and her skin was perfectly emerald. She had her legs, shod in heavy boots, crossed at the ankles, and she chewed on the end of the glasses she should be wearing. Her face was full of emotion, though. She was Elphaba incarnate, with her face so distant and full of unspoken things.

Rebekah stepped into the room and asked softly, "Penny for your thoughts, my Elphaba the Delirious?"

Rosalyn looked up, but didn't answer.

Rebekah sat down, and took Rosalyn's very green hands, saying, "All you have to do right now is this, okay? Just this. For the next three hours, it's you and me. We can worry about the three hours after that when this is over. We'll take it like that. A few hours at a time."

Rosalyn still looked troubled, but she smiled weakly. Rebekah kissed her on the cheek, and gave her a meaningful look before turning away. Then, she headed out to take her place for the opening curtain. Saying a quick prayer, she climbed into her 'bubble', and pulled her focus for what had to be done.

However, Rebekah could tell throughout the show that Rosalyn was wrestling with herself. She never blew a line, never fumbled or let the audience know she wasn't at her best. But she took extra pause, she dropped faster into the distant, despondent scenes, and her second act performance was darker than usual. For those fans who had started to love her, it most likely came across as a richer, more emotional performance, but Rebekah understood what was fueling her friend.

She nearly breathed a sigh of relief when she and Rosalyn were finally left alone onstage to sing _For Good_ together. It was a time when they could take a moment, look into each other's eyes, and collect themselves. It was a time when they usually, albeit silently, told each other that they'd almost made it to the end of another show. This time, however, Rosalyn was especially clingy. She held to Rebekah's hands tightly, and sang to her with bright, shimmering eyes. Rebekah couldn't say if the tears were real, or just a part of Rosalyn's very emotional performance, but she saw them.

After their duet, it was just a few short scenes until they sang the finale. Then, they were up for curtain call. The cast took their bows, as always, and Rebekah took Rosalyn's hand and pulled her to center stage so they could bow together. After the riotous applause and acknowledging the orchestra, the curtain finally fell. Typically, the cast scattered fairly quickly to get changed and go in search of dinner. Rebekah and Rosalyn were generally no exception. However, when the curtain hit the floor, Rosalyn suddenly turned in to Rebekah and wrapped her in a fierce embrace. With both of them still fully dressed in their respective costumes, Rosalyn clung to Rebekah. After a moment, Rebekah could hear the very quiet sobs, and feel the tears on her bare shoulder.

The other cast members stopped momentarily, wearing a myriad of different expressions on their faces. Every possibly reaction was displayed, from deep compassion, to surprise, to absolute disgust and annoyance. None of them had ever seen Rosalyn show any emotion other than stoic indifference, or obnoxious pride. Even if they thought it to be manipulative, none of them could deny that this was an unprecedented happening.

Rebekah did not acknowledge them, though. She knew how hard Rosalyn was struggling. She understood that Rosalyn was battling with allowing herself to fall back into the life she'd grown comfortable with, or keep fighting to find herself underneath all the pain. Rebekah knew how difficult the internal struggle must be, for Rosalyn to allow the rest of the cast to see her cry, or just to be so overwhelmed that she couldn't stop it. So, she held onto her friend until the others had filtered away, finally losing interest in the spectacle.

And then, with her face still in Rebekah's shoulder, Rosalyn whispered, "Do you promise you'll always be there? No matter what? No matter what I need? Do you promise?"

Rebekah pulled away, just so she could look into Rosalyn's wide eyes, "Yes," she promised, "I'll be there for you, always. Even if I'm thousands of miles away. You will always have me."

Rosalyn nodded then, and apologized when she realized she'd covered Rebekah in green makeup. Rebekah laughed, and the moment seemed to imprint itself in both their memories. Like a photograph, or one frame from a film, they felt suspended there, trying to hold onto exactly what they had in that moment. And then, like the endless, crashing waves on the shore, cold and indifferent, life moved on.


	22. Chapter 22: Broken

**I went to see Wicked again on Thurs, and my daughter and I wore our costumes. She was Galinda, in the bubble dress. It was amazing. I got to go backstage again, and their makeup artist told me I did a good job. That was an incredible compliment. I also had cast members ask for pictures of me. What a weird turn of events. Usually, I'm asking them. :-) All around, it was awesome. I also found out from the Elphaba standby, Anne, that there's a Wicked exhibit at a mall in Charlotte. And they have the Act II dress. So...I'm thinking it's time to be green again...and go see that dress. I also got to compare my green fingernail polish with hers. Another thing I never thought I'd do...**

**Also, there's something in this chapter that some of you have been waiting for. Kudos if you know what it is. **

**Anyhoo...enjoy the chapter. **

**

* * *

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**Chapter 22: Broken**

The following day, the cast was at O'Hare International Airport by late morning to catch their flight. They all generally dreaded the hassle of having to go through security, and haul all of their belongings through the crowded expanse of terminals. This time, especially, several of them had expressed the wish that they could've just made the five-hour trip to St. Louis by car. However, the powers that be had already arranged for them to fly. So they all made the trek to O'Hare, hauling their bags behind them.

The weather that morning only made things more complicated. The sky had been threatening since dawn, and by noon, it was pouring. The cast, therefore, arrived at the airport soaking wet and feeling altogether foul. There was general grumbling about how the traveling was, by far, the worst part of touring. Still, they managed to stay somewhat calm, until the flights started to be cancelled. Waiting in line to check their bags, they all watched the monitors as flight times began to show 'delayed' and then 'cancelled'. Looking out the windows at the driving rain, it was no surprise.

Tom, the tour manager, approached the group of them after spending a few minutes on his phone. He looked generally frustrated as he addressed them, "Looks like the weather is causing some problems. Some flights have already been diverted because of the rain, and they're about to ground everything until it eases up. The rain plus the wind is making landing and takeoff unsafe, and there's a line of storms behind this that's got every county in two states on tornado watch."

There was a chorus of moaning and complaining.

"So," Tom continued, "it looks like we're renting some vans and driving you down. It doesn't look like this is going to let up before early evening, and the flights are booked until tomorrow. So…haul your stuff this way and try to keep the cursing to a minimum."

Grabbing their bags, they all heaved a sigh and hauled themselves out of the check-in line and back towards baggage claim, where the rental cars were located. Rosalyn was one of the last in line, and she following a few steps behind the rest of the group. Cassie was chatting up Rebekah, complaining about her latest argument with Stephen. Rosalyn kept her distance, because she still wasn't all that comfortable with the other cast members. She focused on not dropping her stuff, instead of talking. Every now and then, Jacob looked as though he might volunteer to help her, but he'd been keeping his distance lately. Instead, he just shot her a look over his shoulder every once in a while. Rosalyn tried not to look at him, not wanting to involve herself in another scene in front of the cast.

Her total loss of control the day before was still burned into her conscience, and she wanted to be angry with herself for allowing the others to see her cry. However, Rebekah's reassuring embrace and her unfaltering promise to always be there made it hard for Rosalyn to stay angry. Deep down, she wouldn't have traded the moment. She just wished desperately that it could've happened anywhere else. She wished she could get her explosive emotions under control, and stop lashing out. She wished she could control when the tears came.

_Just…focus on this right now,_ Rosalyn told herself, _Focus on getting through the airport._

And that's how she was trying to take it. One step a time. One hour at a time. She was trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other until she could reach a place where she wasn't clinging to Rebekah like a dying woman. She was inching toward the moment when she could look into Jacob's eyes and not be so overwhelmed by her emotions that she nearly threw up. She was clawing her way forward, to a time when she wouldn't need the rush of controlling a nameless lover to dull her pain. She was making progress, but the path was hard. And this trip to St. Louis marked the beginning of a critical leg of the journey.

As they walked, Rosalyn wondered if she could keep up her promise. She wondered if she could last another month without the men. She considered whether the benefit of giving them up would be outweighed by how pathetic she felt when she gave herself over to tears. She wondered if she could bring herself to tell Rebekah that she cried far more often than Rebekah knew. Rosalyn thought about the times she'd spent in her shower, crying so hard her body ached, with the water drowning out the sound of her sobs. She wrestled with whether she'd be able to confess how much she hurt, even knowing that Rebekah would show nothing but compassion.

She also watched Jacob as he walked, dragging his suitcase and duffle bags. Just the sight of him left Rosalyn so conflicted that she normally forced her thoughts in any other direction. He made her afraid, confused, and tormented, all at the same time. Any time he touched her, she felt terrified of losing control. So she pushed him away and demanded distance. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't erase the memory of the day he had kissed her at the piano.

The night she'd tried to seduce him, she'd been focused on a role she knew how to play. She had been focused on the outcome and, much like a show, she had numbed herself to his touch. That day at the piano, though, she had been open and vulnerable. She had seen him less as a man, and more as a friend. She had seen the things in him that were so much like her, and her guard had come down. When he had kissed her, the sheer power of what she had felt had nearly stripped her of all rational thought. For the woman who'd never been kissed by someone she wasn't manipulating, it had been a watershed moment.

Still, Rosalyn was afraid of exploring the feeling. She was afraid of losing control. It was a fear that plagued her constantly, in every aspect of her life. It was easier to be hateful, angry, and manipulative, because the reactions of other people were predictable. As demonstrated by what had happened the previous day, however, the reaction of other people to painful tears was mixed and not always compassionate. So Rosalyn kept her face blank, her emotions checked, and cast glares at anyone who dared to look in her direction.

When they finally arrived at baggage claim, the line at the rental counter was several people deep. They all crashed onto the hard, plastic chairs, spilling their luggage around them. The airport was in a general state of aggravated frustration, and other passengers were complaining and considering other routes out of Chicago. Having acted quickly, Tom managed to secure them three, fifteen-passenger vans before the entire airport began demanding rental cars. More than ready to be out of the airport, they filed out into the parking lot and filled the back of each van with their luggage. The all knew that the company would not be thrilled with having to pay for airline tickets and rental cars, so they tried to keep their complaining to a minimum while Tom was around. Still, they were all tired and frustrated, and more than ready to be in St. Louis.

They crammed themselves into the vans, having to sit closer than they would've liked because their luggage took up the backseat of each van. Exhausted and emotionally drained, Rosalyn found herself alone after everyone had found a seat. Searching for Rebekah, she found her in the front seat of one of the vans.

Sticking her head out the window, Rebekah said, "I volunteered to sit up front. Apparently, no one wants to ride with Tom."

Tom waived from the driver's seat. Rosalyn, trying to make an effort to be more personable, gave him a tiny smile. Then, she turned to the open side doors and tried to find a seat. Landon, in an attempt to be helpful, tried to make room for her. After a moment, though, it became obvious that the van was full. Landon look apologetic just as Jacob came up behind Rosalyn.

"We're full," Landon said, with sympathy. However, a couple of the other cast members behind him gave Rosalyn despising glances.

"It's okay," Jacob spoke up, "There's a couple of seats over here."

Rosalyn turned and sized him up, trying to think of an excuse not to follow him. In the confinement of a van, she very much wanted to be sitting with Rebekah. It became very obvious, very quickly, however, that she had no other choice. Everyone else had a place to sit, and they were now waiting on her and Jacob. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Rosalyn was the focus of the entire cast's attention. The feeling of all their eyes on her quickly overcame her trepidation about sitting next to Jacob. So she followed him to another one of the vans, and wordlessly climbed into the seat next to him. Then, she reached over and closed the door.

Rosalyn and Jacob were silent as the other cast members around them began to chatter and make plans for the next day. They drove slowly, as a result of the driving rain and gusting winds. The storms that had threatened the airport were now making their way across Missouri and Illinois, and they grew stronger as they approached the interstate on which the cast was traveling. This was the time of year when strong lines of storms often formed overnight, and then made their way across the Midwestern states with great fury. Their formation was predictable, but their duration and impact were not.

Therefore, the vans crept along interstate fifty-five with all the other traffic, just hoping to make decent time getting into St. Louis. The cast talked and complained amongst themselves. The chatter only occasionally subsided when the sound of the emergency weather alerts came over the radio. None of them were especially worried, but they were all anxious to be dry and settled into their hotel. The tornado warnings were more of an inconvenience to getting to their destination than a real threat, it seemed.

Rosalyn kept her focus out the window, trying to keep her thoughts calm and neutral. She had never been comfortable with being in such close proximity to so many people, and she was counting the minutes until she could be alone in her own room. She studied her hands intermittently, and tried to calm her raging nerves. She was hyper-aware of Jacob's presence directly beside her. He was so close, that she could feel the heat from his body. A tiny part of her wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if that feeling from the morning at the piano would return. In spite of herself, she wanted to feel that again.

However, her fear of what it might mean kept her still. The whole thing made her feel out of control, and the only outcome she could see was one where Jacob got hurt and hated her. Rosalyn, in spite of all her bravado, didn't think she could handle being screamed at and resented. It was obvious to her now, based on his reaction to her seduction, that his feelings were real. She believed that he did care about her. But surely, if she allowed him to become a real part of her life, Jacob would only come to resent her past. He would eventually realize how scarred she was, and who she'd let herself become over the past ten years. Rosalyn didn't believe anyone could look past her sins forever. So she sat still, refusing to look at him.

When they were about an hour outside of their destination, the already impossibly heavy rain grew heavier. It came in driving sheets, accompanied by showers of hail that further slowed traffic. The emergency alerts continued to come over the radio, and they all began to listen a little more closely for any notification that there might actually be a tornado. The line of cars in front of them gradually began to slow to a crawl, and visibility was reduced to just a few feet.

Rosalyn peered out the windshield, trying to find the other two vans in the downpour. She knew they had all been within a few car lengths of each other for most of the trip. She thought they might have passed the gray van at some point, but the red one in which Rebekah was riding had been in front of them. Rosalyn felt a need to keep tabs on their locations, perhaps as a way to keep herself occupied. After a few minutes, she thought she finally spied the red van a few yards ahead. It was hard to tell in the storm, but the vans were larger and more easily spotted than most other cars. Her eyes followed the red vehicle until traffic came to an absolute stand-still. The rain and wind had made visibility nonexistent, and they all stopped talking because the noise of storm was deafening. Growing more anxious, they all sat there in silence for several minutes.

Eventually, Megan spoke up, "I hope this isn't actually a tornado. I can't imagine there's anywhere for us to go…"

"I don't think so," Donald, their Wizard, stated, "you'd hear it coming."

"I don't know if we'd hear anything over this," Megan replied.

"Believe me, you'd hear a tornado," Donald chuckled.

Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder shook the van, and one of the girls squealed, "I heard that!"

"Does anyone else feel the irony in this?" asked Peter, who played Dr. Dillamond.

"What?" asked Megan.

"The cast of Wicked…unable to make it to our destination because of a tornado…"

Several of them laughed and Carolyn, their Madame Morrible, offered, "How about…a change in the weather?"

They laughed again, their spirits eased a little by the touch of humor. Rosalyn, however, could not seem to calm her nerves. She'd never been comfortable with storms. They were wild and uncontrollable, and therefore terrified her almost as much as people.

After several more minutes, the rain finally let up a bit. The traffic, however, did not. They could now see the line of cars stretching in front of them through the steady showers. The all groaned as they realized they were stuck for at least the next little while. Then, Rosalyn heard the wail of sirens behind them. Within a moment, a fire truck passed, followed by several police cars. She felt a twinge of fear, and she picked up her phone to try to reach Rebekah. Around her, the others in the van seemed to have the same idea. Jacob gave Rosalyn a reassuring smile as she scrolled through her phone contacts. She gave him a tiny smile in return. Then, she dialed Rebekah, and listened as it rang and rang.

"I got Amy," Megan suddenly called out, "She says they're behind us and they're fine."

"What about the other van?" Jacob asked worriedly.

Rosalyn continued to dial Rebekah, praying silently that she would pick up. Still, there was no answer.

After another moment, Ryan, another ensemble member, shushed all of them, "I got Jenna," he stated, and then listened.

Rosalyn continued to dial, but looked toward where Ryan was sitting.

"Oh my gosh, what?" they all heard him gasp.

"What? What is it?" Megan whispered.

"It was them," Ryan choked out, "they were in the wreck."

The van was very quiet, and Rosalyn continued to call Rebekah, her level of panic rising.

"She says they're okay, mostly," Ryan continued.

Just then, an ambulance went squealing by, and they all couldn't help by wonder at its necessity, if everyone was okay.

Ryan listened, and then added, "She says some people in the other car are hurt pretty badly. A car spun out in front of them and…what?"

They all barely breathed.

Ryan shook his head in disbelief, "She says they tried to stop, and hit the car in front of them...and a tractor trailer lost control behind them and hit them. She says the luggage saved them."

They all look around, at how their luggage was occupying the entire back of the van. There was a smattering of nervous laughter as they realized the irony in how upset they'd all been at having to sit so close to each other. Now, there was a feeling of collective gratitude and wonder at what might've happened if their friends had been sitting in the very back seat of the red van.

Ryan continued to talk, trying to calm Jenna down, but Rosalyn stopped listening. She was still dialing Rebekah, and getting no answer. The traffic was still at a stand still, and the rain was still coming down in misting showers. In the distance, through the hazy weather, she could see the flashing of emergency lights.

Jacob was watching her, and finally said, "I'm sure they're fine, Rosalyn. Jenna would've told us if they were hurt. It's surprising Ryan even got through to her. I'm sure they're okay."

Rosalyn shook her head as she dialed again, "I have to talk to her. I have to," she stated.

After another minute, Rosalyn let out an exasperated sigh. She surveyed the scene ahead of them, and she reacted. Without a word to anyone else in the van, she opened the door and bolted into the rain. She heard Jacob calling to her, but she didn't look back. Rosalyn ran along the side of the road, ignoring the wet mist that slowly started to soak her through. Her feet crunched in the fresh hail that had fallen just minutes before, but she kept running. She didn't glance sideways at the stares from the other drivers. She just ran towards the flashing lights, her heart pounding in her ears.

As she ran, Ryan's words ran through her head, _She says they're okay, mostly._

Rosalyn fervently hoped that meant her panic was in vain. She hoped Rebekah and Landon were being treated for some minor injury, and couldn't answer the phone. Still, she ran. She ran until she reached a line of police cars blocking the accident scene. She could see the tractor trailer, jack-knifed across the highway, but otherwise mostly unscathed. Straining her eyes, Rosalyn made out the crumpled red van through the fog, along with an equally damaged blue sedan.

A fireman, seeing here standing there, approached. Rosalyn didn't give him time to speak, demanding, "Are they all okay? All of them?"

"We have a couple of serious injuries from the sedan, but everyone else is minor. I'm going to have to ask you to go back to your car," he told her.

Rosalyn shook her head, "I just have to see her, please! I just need to know!"

The fireman shook his head, "Please go back to your car. Any injured will go to St. Louis Memorial. You can get more information there."

Rosalyn started to argue again, her level of panic beginning to overwhelm her, when another fireman came running from the scene. He gestured towards his partner, who was speaking with Rosalyn, and called out, "Come on! We've got one critical! Ejection from vehicle…in the median!"

As the fireman ran off, no longer concerned with Rosalyn, she felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to vomit. Acting on impulse and adrenaline, she took off across the scene in spite of what she'd been told. The emergency workers were now swarming, like a hoard of ants, on the grassy area that ran between the two sides of the highway. It was perhaps ten feet lower than the roadway, and was not immediately visible from the accident scene. Rosalyn ran past the ambulances and fire trucks, feeling as though she was passing everything in slow motion. Oblivious to the rain, she ran through the mist towards the red van. Sitting outside on the edge of the roadway, she could see the shocked and terrified faces of the other cast members. Most looked unharmed, and some were being treated for minor injuries. Scanning each of them, Rosalyn prayed she'd see Rebekah. As horrible as it was, she prayed it was anyone else lying in the median.

Just before she reached the guard rail, she caught sight of Landon. He was sitting on the asphalt with his face in his hands. Rosalyn's breath caught, and she stopped at the guard rail and looked down. Through the rain, she could only make out a figure lying about forty feet away, in the lowest point of the median. The storm had left the ground covered in a fresh layer of tiny hailstones, which almost looked like snow. The victim was lying on the white backdrop, and blood was spattered around like fresh, red paint on a new canvas. The emergency workers obscured the view, and at first Rosalyn couldn't say who she was looking at. Then, in a moment that would be with her forever, one of the EMT's stepped aside and allowed Rosalyn a clearer view. The world seemed to grow deathly still as she caught a glimpse of a shock of blonde curls, splayed out against the hail-covered ground. It was Rebekah's hair. It was only Rebekah's hair. That mane of wildly out of control curls belonged to only one cast member.

Rosalyn stood there, immovable, while voices rang out around her. Someone might've been calling her name. Someone might've been calling for an ambulance. She could make sense of none of it. For Rosalyn, it was another very real nightmare. It was another moment when she was powerless to stop the tragedy around her. It was the first friend she'd ever had, lying motionless in the rain.

And so, overcome by it all, Rosalyn fainted onto the roadway.

* * *

It took nearly four hours for Jacob and the rest of the cast members to get through the accident scene and to their hotel. Word had quickly spread that Rebekah had been taken to St. Louis Memorial, along with three other cast members with minor injuries. Still, they had very little information. In order to clear the scene as quickly as possible, the authorities had insisted that they either return to the hotel, or go to the hospital to wait for more information.

Tom had made sure those stranded by the accident made it to the hotel, either by police escort or in the remaining vans. Their luggage was a tangled mess, and was brought to their hotel by an incredibly kind-hearted Good Samaritan with an empty van. Still, even with most of their stuff and dry rooms to stay in, there was an overall feeling of dread hanging over the cast. Even without any real information, they knew that something tragic had occurred.

Jacob dumped his things in his room and bolted back out of the hotel. By some great act of God's mercy, the hospital was only about a mile and a half from the theater. Too upset to wait for a cab, Jacob took off in the rain towards the hospital. He hadn't seen Rosalyn since she'd bolted from the van, and he'd been given the task of leaving her luggage in her empty room. Getting no answer on her phone, in spite of calling her for the past four hours, he had grown more and more panicked about her well-being. Now, running through the intermittent rain, he couldn't reach the hospital fast enough.

Once he arrived, it took him some time to work through the maze of the hospital. Rebekah was still an emergency patient, and the best the staff could do was direct him to the waiting room for ICU. By some stroke of incredible luck, Jacob found both Landon and Rosalyn in the waiting room. They were alone in the dimly lit space, and both looked ghostly pale. Jacob stood there for a minute, afraid to ask for information. After some time, he went and sat next to Landon, who was staring at the floor. Rosalyn was standing at the one window, watching the rain blankly.

After a long, difficult silence, Landon said, "She's in a coma, Jacob," his voice was hoarse and strained, "She…she volunteered to sit in the front seat, and the seatbelt was broken. We laughed about it…"

Jacob felt his throat constrict with grief and disbelief.

Landon continued in a flat, emotionless voice, "Everyone else is pretty much okay. Stephen fractured his arm and Siobhan has a concussion. Some of them got a few stitches, but they're fine. The luggage took the impact, and it was a big van. Even the people in the other car will be okay. The father was in here, and he said his wife and daughter were hurt pretty badly, but they're stable. All of them will be okay…everyone but her…"

Jacob was still silent, with no idea what to say.

"When the truck hit us, she was thrown through the windshield…and no one knew where she was for a while. I kept asking…and they kept saying everyone was fine…" Landon struggled to continue, "She's got fractured ribs…and one punctured her lung. She fractured her hip and she's got all kinds of stitches…but it's her head…she's in a coma and they don't know if…I mean…she hasn't…"

Jacob stopped him, "It's okay…I understand. It's a head injury…you don't have to tell me any more."

Landon took a breath, "She might not wake up, Jacob. If she does…she might never…I mean, I might have to choose…"

Landon's voice caught then, and Jacob could feel his suffering. Putting an arm around Landon's shoulders, Jacob just said, "Don't say that right now. Don't let yourself go there right now."

They sat way for a few minutes, neither speaking. Landon rubbed his eyes, to stem more tears before they came. Jacob look across the room at Rosalyn, and finally noticed she was still damp and disheveled. She also had a bandage across her forehead that was stained with blood. Jacob stood, offering Landon another meaningful look before crossing the room.

He went carefully to Rosalyn, where she stood by the window. He stood just next to her, not touching her, but trying to offer her some support. She was, Jacob knew, almost as dependent on Rebekah as Landon. Rebekah was more than her friend. She was her lifeline. She was closer than a sister. Jacob knew how much Rosalyn must be hurting, how angry she might be. So he stood next to her, and asked carefully, "Are you all right?"

After a moment, Rosalyn whispered, "Yes. I fainted and hit my head."

Jacob looked at her, "You're still in wet clothes," he observed softly.

She shrugged, not looking at him. Jacob continued to stand with her, having no idea what she might want or need. He had no idea how to navigate this situation or how to offer any sort of comfort to either Landon or Rosalyn. He had no idea how to make sense of it for himself. He just stood there, grieving in his own way.

After some time, Rosalyn turned, and Jacob realized that she was looking at him. Her wide, dark eyes were full of emotion and unshed tears. Without saying a word, she suddenly stepped in and buried her face in his chest. She did not cry, but she just stood there, clinging to his shirt and trembling. Jacob was very still, afraid of frightening her. He knew she must be terribly conflicted and hurt to be reaching out to him. He understood that she must have reached some sort of breaking point.

After a few minutes, Jacob very carefully wrapped his arms around her, not wanting her to feel trapped or pressured in any way. He did, however, want her to feel protected. Rosalyn stayed there, unmoved. After another few minutes, she wrapped her arms around him, like a child seeking protection from her greatest fear. Jacob held her for a long time, with his face in her dark, damp hair. He looked over at Landon, and couldn't believe what was happening. He couldn't understand why it had to be this that brought Rosalyn into his arms. He couldn't understand why God would take the strongest member of this strange, self-made, little family. He prayed that Rosalyn would do more than let him hold her. He prayed she would let him help her through this. And then he stood there, out of thoughts and out of prayers. They all stayed there, broken.


	23. Chapter 23: Sisters

**Sorry this took a little longer. I wrote a large portion of this at once, because of how I wanted it to flow. Then, I had to cut it in half. And this is still a long chapter. :-)**

**I also got to go to a Wicked event at a mall near me, and I got to see the Act II dress. It is awesome. I touched it. Even though the sign said 'do not touch'. I also, of course, wore my costume. And I looked at the mall security woman and said, 'I'm going to touch this.' She just laughed and said, 'It looks like it's yours'. That was awesome.**

**And now...enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 23: Sisters**

The following two days were a blur, as the cast tried to regroup and prepare for what would be a difficult opening that Wednesday. They learned very quickly that, even in this situation, there was truth in the old adage, 'the show must go on'. Their tour schedule had very little extra time built into it, and the logistics of trying to reschedule over two thousand ticket holders made cancelling a show nearly impossible. Cancellation was reserved only for 'catastrophic' circumstances, and having one cast member become incapacitated did not qualify as 'catastrophic'. The harsh reality was that their own personal tragedy was not enough to cancel the show. To make matters worse, they were all called in on their 'golden day' for a long and arduous rehearsal.

There was much grumbling, since several of them were still suffering the after effects of the accident. Their bodies were bruised and stiff, and some were nursing cuts and abrasions. Siobhan and Stephen were both out with injuries, so they were short a total of three cast members. Without Rebekah, Cassie was now placed in the role of Galinda. The swings would have to cover the other two tracks, as well as the spot left open because Jenna would be taking Cassie's place as Nessarose. It was like a puzzle for which the pieces had suddenly changed, and they had to work to put it back together. Slowly, Jonathan ran them through each scene, making sure every actor knew his or her marks. It was a difficult rehearsal. However, the difficulty was not in the technical.

The swings knew the show, and the others knew how to compensate. They were all professionals, and they generally worked well under pressure. This wasn't the first time they'd had to pull off a show in less than perfect circumstances. The real reason for the awkward tension and the short tempers was not the 'how' of redoing the show. It was the 'why'. Each of them, even those who hadn't been particularly close to her, were thinking of Rebekah. They were all remembering her body, laying in the median with blood spattered around her. They were thinking of how she lay in a hospital bed while they sang _No One Mourns the Wicked_. They were remembering how the 'bubble' always made her a little nervous. They were wondering if she would live. And they were all watching Rosalyn as she struggled through the rehearsal.

Her frustration was evident, and Jacob tried to calm her as best he could. Still, Rosalyn was short-tempered and quick to snap at Cassie, who was struggling to match Rebekah's performance. Rosalyn was a creature of habit, and she hated having her timing thrown off by a different actor. Jacob knew she was also suffering terribly beneath her frazzled exterior. So he tried to calm them both, and help them to focus. He was suddenly cast into the role of the voice of reason, and it was unsettling for him. Still, Rosalyn seemed to listen. For some reason, possibly for lack of better options, she was leaning on him for support. So Jacob got her through it. He encouraged Rosalyn through the rehearsal and walked her, albeit silently, to her room that evening. He checked on her in the morning, and was surprised when she accepted his offer to bring her lunch.

He made his rounds that afternoon, checking on Landon at the hospital and making sure he ate something. He felt horrible, having to leave his friend in the ICU waiting room with Rebekah's parents. They had flown in the night of the accident, and were clearly as weary and devastated as Landon had been. It made Jacob wish he had something profound, or at least encouraging, to say. All he could do, however, was bring hamburgers and hope they would try to eat. It was the ultimate contradiction, since the magnitude of the situation was directly contrasted by how much he could actually do.

Rebekah was in a medically induced coma at this point, so her prognosis was mostly unknown until her doctors could allow her to try to regain consciousness. Once the initial shock of the situation had worn off, they had all tried to listen and make sense of what the doctors were saying. It was hard to hear, no matter how careful the doctors tried to be. Rebekah had been unresponsive since the accident, and the coma was necessary at this point to give her a chance at healing. She would need surgery to repair the shattered ribs and the hip she'd broken, however she was far too unstable at this point to tolerate those operations.

She would remain unconscious for at least two weeks, at which point her doctors would end the medically induced coma. Whether she would regain consciousness at that point, they could not say. Her head injury was extremely severe, and she'd already had two emergency surgeries just to alleviate the bleeding in her brain. As her doctor had told them, things like this were never textbook. There were no easy answers. Every injury like this was different, and Rebekah's body would take its own course. When, or if, she would recover, and to what extent, no one could predict. It was their gut-wrenching reality. It was the most horrible limbo, where the damage had been done and all they could do was wait. So, that afternoon, Jacob brought food and listened to the latest doctors' report. Then he forced himself to leave Landon with Rebekah's parents.

He returned to Rosalyn with her lunch, and the news that Rebekah was no better or worse. He offered to stay and give her some company, but Rosalyn was determined to sit by her phone, eating silently and hoping it would ring with good news. So Jacob went back to his room and tried to occupy himself with a novel. He was expectedly unsuccessful, however, and he spent most of the afternoon staring out the window and clutching his cell phone.

Before they realized it, the day had passed and it was time to open another run of the show. This time, however, it was with heavy hearts and a great deal of trepidation. The cast was subdued, moody even. They moved through the theater silently, without the usual pre-show banter. Jonathan did his best to encourage them, and they put a little more time into their preparations. As curtain time neared, they gathered in the stage-right wing, at Jonathan's insistence. They didn't usually meet as a group, but they knew he was trying to help them focus.

He told them all quickly, "I know this has been a horrible couple of days. I know some of you don't feel well. But don't let anything steal this show. This audience has no idea what went on yesterday, or the day before. No matter how grieved we might be, it cannot affect this performance. This is one of the greatest and worst things about the theater. The show must go on. No matter what, and…where's Rosalyn?"

Jacob looked around, concerned.

"Figures," one of the ensemble members muttered.

The others began to mumble and roll their eyes. They kept it quiet, though, not wanting to vent their obvious frustration in front of Jonathan. Only a few looked vaguely concerned. Jacob watched them, and his temper flared.

At risk of being reprimanded, he spoke up, saying, "It's easy to hate her, isn't it? Most of you are probably wishing it was her in the hospital. Not because you're bad people. Rosalyn is just that horrible, isn't she?"

They all looked at him, stunned and annoyed.

"I'm not going to give you a speech in her defense," Jacob continued, "but I am going to tell you that no one in this building is more lost than her. No one needs your help tonight more than her. Not even you, Cassie. Those tears you saw the other night? Those were real. Sure…she's mean as a snake sometimes. But maybe, just for tonight, we can try to work together?"

To Jacob's surprise, Jonathan didn't scold him. Instead, he sent him after Rosalyn. Jacob went looking for her, hoping she wasn't having some sort of break down. He found her in her dressing room, fully costumed and staring at the wall.

He very softly said, "It's time, Rosalyn."

There was a long pause, before she said, "What if she dies while I'm out there? Singing and being applauded?"

"Then that's exactly where she would want you to be," Jacob replied.

Rosalyn finally met his eyes, and she looked a little surprised at his wisdom. Jacob offered his hand, and she very carefully took hold of it. She let him lead her from the dressing room to where the rest of the cast was waiting. Jonathan nodded his approval now that the cast was all present. The others watched Rosalyn carefully.

She was a shadow of who she'd been three days prior, and she still clutched Jacob's hand. She studied the floor, her façade of haughty arrogance gone. Jacob supposed it was just too hard, to grieve so terribly and maintain such an obnoxious front. Otherwise, he knew Rosalyn would never let herself appear so weak. So he gripped her hand, and the other cast members softened towards her just a bit more. They tried to give each other encouraging glances. And then the curtain was up, and it was time.

* * *

That night, once they'd made it through the show without incident, most of the cast members dispersed quickly to the hotel. Jacob was tired himself, but he considered whether he should stop by and check on Landon. A quick phone call revealed that he was still with Rebekah's parents, though. Landon insisted that he go home, and Jacob was tired enough to comply.

He couldn't help checking Rosalyn's dressing room after he'd changed clothes, though. He was glad to find her dressed and heading out the door. With a tiny smile of encouragement, he silently walked with her towards the stage door. Once outside, they were greeted by the usual handful of autograph seekers. They both tried to be polite as they worked their way through the line of people. However, Jacob saw Rosalyn stiffen when one of them asked, "I heard on the news your cast had a car accident. I heard there were some bad injuries. Is that why the Glinda understudy is up?"

Jacob quickly answered, "I'm sorry, we're not allowed to discuss cast changes."

He knew that most likely wasn't true, but he also knew that Rosalyn would not be able to handle a barrage of questions. She would either break down or start snapping at audience members, and neither would be a good scenario. So he got her through the autographs and back to the hotel as quickly as possible.

They walked up to their floor in silence, and Jacob wasn't sure if Rosalyn was glad for his presence or just ready to be done with him. Still, he felt compelled to be there for her. It was becoming his mantra with her, to just be there. Whether she wanted to scream, cry, or stare in silence, he wanted to be there. That night, Rosalyn was silent all the way to her door, where they stopped. Jacob gave her a little smile and started to walk away. Then, she shocked him.

In a small voice, she said, "Do you want to come in? Just…to talk?"

Jacob stared at her, dumbfounded.

"I know it sounds pathetic," Rosalyn rolled her eyes, "I just…I can't sleep anyway…so…"

Jacob studied her eyes, trying to find the right answer. After a long moment, he answered, "No. No, I won't come into your room. I don't want there to be even the smallest chance of you thinking I would ever take advantage of how vulnerable you are," he was painfully frank, "But I will talk with you. I would be honored. Let's just…go to that sitting area on the second floor?"

Rosalyn stared at him, and it was her turn to be shocked. After a long, very still moment, she dropped her bags inside her room, and followed him. Jacob led the way back towards the elevator, and down to the second floor. There was a grouping of small sofas and chairs overlooking the lobby there, and he dropped into one of the chairs. Rosalyn followed suit, and there was another long silence. After a moment, Jacob offered to get some sodas from the vending machine. Rosalyn smiled in appreciation, and he returned after a minute with two cans. He handed one over, and then sat down again.

After sipping for a few moments, Rosalyn finally said, "Do you think…do you think she's going to die?"

Jacob was taken aback, even though he knew that question was running through everyone's mind. Still, he had no answer, and it seemed rather pointless to lie. He looked into Rosalyn's wide eyes and said, "I don't know. I want to believe that she'll come through this, but I don't know…"

Rosalyn chewed her lip, pensive, "I can't lose her, Jacob. I can't. I don't know how to…be…without her. She's the only one I've ever told and…I didn't think I ever wanted…I mean, I didn't want to tell her. I didn't plan to ever tell anyone, but…"

Jacob just sat there, not understanding, but trying to be supportive.

"I don't know what I'm saying…" Rosalyn sighed.

"It's okay," he encouraged, "We're all a little messed up right now. I don't think it's possible to make any sense of this."

Rosalyn shook her head, "I've always been messed up, Jacob. You think I'd be used to it by now…"

"No…not always. You weren't born messed up. We just get messed up along the way," Jacob mused.

Rosalyn smirked a little.

"I mean…I was pretty decent until my dad started shoving my mom around. I even played football. Maybe I'd've been a real 'ladies man' if he hadn't walked out on us," Jacob grumbled.

Rosalyn looked at him with her typically unreadable expression, and then asked bluntly, "Is that why you're in love with me? You think you're too messed up to get a normal woman?"

Jacob tried not to show that she'd hurt him, "No. I mean, maybe you're right…maybe I am too messed up for most women. But I didn't choose you like…like a consolation prize. You're incredible, Rosalyn."

She rolled her eyes, "There's no way you could know that."

"Sure I can."

Rosalyn quirked up her eyebrow, skeptical.

"What? You think I have to sleep with you to know how I feel about you?" Jacob argued, "You're funny and smart, and you love Rebekah like a sister. You're loyal and hard working. You're talented, more talented than almost everyone I know, but you still insist on rehearsing to perfection. When you sing…it mesmerizes people. And you're beautiful. Even painted green…you're beautiful."

Rosalyn looked at him for a long time, perhaps trying to decide if he was sincere. Finally, she said, "Rebekah told me that."

"What?"

Her voice caught, "She told me I was beautiful…even when I'm green…"

"She was right," Jacob said softly.

Rosalyn shook her head, "It's not the compliment that mattered. It's just…she cared enough to say it. For some crazy reason…she cared about me. She had this mission to change me…to love me…in spite of it all…"

She suddenly looked far away, and Jacob offered, "She still does, Rosalyn. She's not gone. We have every reason to hope that she'll be fine."

Rosalyn smiled sadly, "That's not how things go for me."

"Well, maybe this time, things can be different."

She looked at her hands, and didn't answer.

Jacob took a deep breath, and considered his next question carefully, "Rosalyn…I want to ask you something, because I want you to see that you can trust me. I've told you a lot about my life, and I really want to know you. I only ask because I care," he paused, "Did someone hurt you? More than just emotionally? Is that why you shut everyone out? Is that why you're afraid of me?"

Rosalyn looked across the room and was very still for a long time. Jacob was starting to think she'd decided not to answer, when she said, "I'm not afraid of you, Jacob. I'm not afraid of men. When he…when he…" she clenched her hands into fists, "When he raped me…he took away the fear. I'm not afraid of being attacked or of having sex. I'm afraid…I'm afraid of the moment when I lose you. I'm afraid of when I lose her. I'm afraid of that god awful moment when everyone lets you down, disappears, hurts you terribly…or dies. That's what I fear, Jacob."

He was stunned by her raw honesty, and he didn't want to cheapen it by saying something stupid. And he had no real answer, anyway. So Jacob just reached out and took her hand. He held onto her until two tears ran down her cheeks, and she took off towards her room without another word.

* * *

For the next several nights, Rosalyn and Jacob sat up in the little sitting area and talked. Their conversations were often halting and uncertain, but they talked. Jacob was glad for it. He was glad that Rosalyn trusted him enough to sit with him, and that she talked without being coaxed. It was no longer just him rambling on about his life. Rosalyn participated. Perhaps to fill the void left by Rebekah's absence, she talked to him. She talked about her mother and how she refused to master the English language, even after nearly thirty years. She talked about how much she'd hated her hometown and how much she'd wanted to get out of it. She reminisced about school and how everyone had mostly despised her. She said she didn't blame them, nor did she apologize. She talked about how she'd done nothing but study, to secure a place for herself somewhere far away from Conover, Georgia. She talked about college, and how she'd been so horrible to Rebekah. She told him about the different shows she'd done, and the roles she'd played.

It was an impressive résumé, Jacob had to admit. Rosalyn had done everything from local productions of _Oklahoma, A Chorus Line, _and _Cats,_ to off-Broadway runs of _Fame_, _Chicago, Footloose, _and _Les Mis._ She'd been a standby in _Phantom of the Opera_ and she'd done short runs in _Rent_ and _Jersey Boys._ She'd worked nearly non-stop since college, and she'd clearly earned her role in _Wicked._

"I wanted this part," she told him one night, "I've wanted to play this part since I read the book, before there was a show…"

"Why?" he asked.

"Because…I know her. I understand Elphaba. I get why she's so angry. I mean…no good deed, right? No matter what she does…she's wrong…"

Jacob paused, "But do you get why Fiyero loves her?"

Rosalyn didn't answer, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of longing in her eyes.

"It's because he sees her," Jacob continued, "He sees her like no one has ever been able to see her."

Rosalyn had looked away then, and Jacob didn't push her further.

* * *

That Saturday, Hayleigh was finally able to fly in from Charlotte to see Rebekah. She had been a wreck for the entire week, after she'd gotten a call from Rebekah's mother. She had barely been able to make it through the spring Director's Showcase. It was a required show for the entire company, and she would have risked her job if she missed it. It had been absolute torture, though. Now that it had concluded, she'd taken some emergency leave and flown out to St. Louis to be with Rebekah. That is, as much as she could be with someone who was in a coma.

Hayleigh still fought waves of nausea every time she thought about her best friend, lying unconscious. She wished with everything in her that she'd been able to be there when all this happened. She'd wished she'd been there to try to stop it. She and Rebekah had been apart so much over the past several years, and Hayleigh was now regretting all the choices that had separated them. She was second-guessing every decision they'd made, even though she knew it was madness. She knew they'd both done what they had to, what had made them happy and paid the bills. She knew neither of them would've changed a moment of their lives. Still, she was compelled to ask the 'what if' questions.

Finally, after securing a local hotel room and dropping off her stuff, Hayleigh made her way over to the hospital. She followed the directions she'd gotten from Rebekah's mother, and found the ICU waiting room. When she came around the corner into the room, she found Gayle and Jack Rawlings sitting in a couple of the chairs. Landon was curled up in the corner, sleeping. They all look haggard and disheveled. Rebekah's mother quickly stood and pulled Hayleigh into an embrace.

A fresh wave of tears came as she said, "They don't know if she's going to wake up, Hayleigh…"

"Hey," Hayleigh stopped her, "I won't hear that. My Rebekah doesn't give up. She might be a little slow making the decision, but she doesn't give up."

Gayle nodded, pulling away and trying to look encouraging.

Hayleigh offered her a box of tissues, from one of the end tables.

After wiping her eyes, Gayle stated, "Landon hasn't left the hospital yet. He loves her so much. I always knew he was a good man…" she paused, and then added in a whisper, "And that girl has been here every day. I think she's a cast member. Landon says she's a friend…?"

Hayleigh turned to see Rosalyn in the opposite corner, sitting in a chair and staring out the window. She looked as lost as the rest of them.

"That's Rosalyn," Hayleigh explained, "She's Elphaba. She's Rebekah's co-star. She's…she's a friend."

Gayle looked a little more at ease, "She doesn't speak…"

Hayleigh studied Rosalyn again, "That's her way."

Gayle nodded, and took another deep breath.

Hayleigh listened as they filled her in on what they knew of Rebekah's condition. When Gayle finished, Hayleigh asked if they needed food, and how they were holding up. They explained that they had a hotel room, for now, and that they were taking things one day at a time. Jack explained that they had some savings for emergencies, and that they'd offered to let Landon share their room, if necessary. He had so far refused, and had been sleeping night and day in the waiting room. Being quite intuitive, like her daughter, Gayle had picked up on the guilt Landon was feeling for letting Rebekah ride with no seat belt. They'd tried to ease his suffering by assuring him it had been an accident. They'd tried to make him leave and get some real sleep. Landon refused, however, and so they let him be for the moment.

Toward the end of their conversation, one of the nurses came into the room to let them know that it was time for their allotted fifteen minutes of visitation. They could have fifteen minutes every two hours, for no more than two people. So they'd been taking turns going back to see Rebekah.

This time, Gayle offered, "Why don't you go, Hayleigh? You should see her, and Landon is finally asleep…"

Hayleigh nodded, and then looked over at Rosalyn, "Has she been back?" she asked.

Gayle shook her head, "No. She doesn't speak."

Making a quick decision, Hayleigh crossed the room to where Rosalyn sat and offered her hand, saying, "Come on. Let's go see her."

Rosalyn looked up in surprise,

"Come on," Hayleigh insisted, "We only have fifteen minutes."

Perhaps because of their last encounter, in Chicago, Rosalyn obeyed. She stood and followed Hayleigh without argument. The two women followed the nurse down the maze of corridors to Rebekah's isolated bed in the ICU. Once in the room, it took a moment to believe what they were seeing. As they stood over the bed, Hayleigh could see Rosalyn stiffen. And she understood why.

Rebekah was nearly unrecognizable. Her head was swathed in layers of gauze and her hair was still tinged pink with blood. Her face was terribly swollen from the fluid she'd been given, and from her horrific injury. The rest of her body was limp and pale, and an untold number of wires and tubes were taped to her arms and chest. Bandages covered the places where she'd received stitches for all her cuts, from the glass. She was also incredibly still. Her breathing was rhythmically controlled by a machine, and the only sounds were the beeping and humming of the equipment around her. After a moment, the nurse gave them a nod, and left to watch them from outside the glass walls of the room.

Hayleigh and Rosalyn stood there for a few minutes, without speaking. Both were lost in their own, very different, memories. After a time, Rosalyn said, "I suppose I don't have the right to hurt this much, after just a few months of friendship…"

Hayleigh turned to look at her, "You have every right. She loves you."

Rosalyn met Hayleigh's eyes, "She's _your_ best friend. You grew up together. You had slumber parties and…stuff. You went to prom together and…whatever normal girls do..."

"You're right. It's an unbreakable bond. But she's your friend, too. She's not any less my friend because she cares about you."

"Cared. She cared…" Rosalyn said bitterly.

"She's still alive, Rosalyn," Hayleigh corrected.

Rosalyn scoffed, "Yeah…right. This is no life…"

Hayleigh bristled, and turned toward Rosalyn, "I won't have you giving up on her. That's where I draw the line. I'm not afraid of you, Rosalyn. I've known you for ten years, and I've never been afraid of you. I haven't always understood you, but you don't scare me. I can accept who you are. What you went through…that sucked. But that's no reason to give up on Rebekah."

"But don't you think it's horrible? To leave her lying in a coma like this? Can you imagine what life she'll have when they try to wake her up? I'm a realist, Hayleigh. I've always had to be," Rosalyn argued.

Hayleigh set her face in a determined expression, "So am I. You know that. And I refuse to believe she doesn't have a chance until someone tells me just that. As long as there's hope, there's hope."

"Hope is fragile," Rosalyn countered.

"So is everything else in this life worth having," Hayleigh threw back, "Love, peace, trust, happiness. It's all fragile."

"That's a lofty statement," Rosalyn challenged.

Hayleigh shrugged, "It's the way it is. Life is hard, and the good parts are fragile."

Rosalyn sighed, "So, what are you really trying to tell me?"

Hayleigh considered, and then said, "There's plenty to complain about in life. This…right here…sucks. So when there's good times, good things, you have to grab onto them. You have to let go of what doesn't matter and focus on what you have. Some times, you have to get over yourself. That's why I couldn't be angry with you for taking some of Rebekah's attention…for having been with her for the past seven months. It's not worth it. That anger…is useless. A lot of times, anger is useless. If…Rebekah doesn't come out of this…I don't want to spend these days being angry or jealous, or second guessing. I just want to see her. For now. For this moment. This is what I have…now."

Rosalyn was struck silent for a moment, and she stared at Hayleigh, and then at Rebekah again. After a moment, she asked, "Is that what you think of me? That I focus on the wrong things?"

Hayleigh cocked her head, and answered, "Sometimes. I think you're trying to solve things that will never be solved. Like I said…sometimes you just have to get over it. It sucks. It hurts, and it's not easy, but sometimes there's no other choice. It's like Maddelyn's father. I'll never make that right or make him apologize. It's done, and I just had to get over it. She's here. She's real. So I made a new life out of what I had."

Rosalyn was quiet again, and they both watched Rebekah's chest rise and fall in an even rhythm. After a moment the nurse came in and quietly ushered them back to the waiting room. They complied, and Hayleigh noticed that Rosalyn said nothing more.

* * *

That afternoon, Jacob was exceedingly glad to be finished with the matinee. He wasn't sleeping well, and he was exhausted and hungry. He hoped to grab a quick bite to eat, and to calm his nerves before coming back for the evening show. He'd heard through the usual gossip channels that Rosalyn had called out for both evening shows that weekend. Recently, their tour schedule had been altered to give them Mondays off, but that put them on for two shows on both Saturday and Sunday. Rosalyn was clearly already feeling the stress of four shows a weekend. Jacob made a note to check with Megan when he came back, to make sure they were on the same page. Then, he gathered his wallet and jacket, and made his way out to the street.

When he came out the stage door, a familiar dark-haired figure caught his eye. He called out to Rosalyn, wondering if she might be willing to eat with him before he had to come back. When the girl turned around, though, he was terribly confused for a moment. She was the image of Rosalyn, except perhaps not quite as tall. And her eyes were a striking blue-gray that was a sharp contrast to Rosalyn's very dark orbs.

Jacob was still trying to get over the shock, when the girl asked, "Are you part of the cast? Is Rosalyn still in there?"

He shook himself, trying to stop staring, and answered, "Yes…and I think so. Are you are?"

The girl tipped her head to the side, and said, "Julianne. She's my sister. Rosalyn…is my sister."

Jacob looked at her more closely, and he picked out the differences. This girl was a bit shorter, and her features were softer. Her nose turned up a little, and her lips had less of that seductive pout. She was also a touch thinner, and her hair wasn't quite as black. Still, the similarities were startling.

"Wow. Okay…I don't think I knew she had a sister…" Jacob stuttered.

Julianne rolled her eyes, "Typical. I don't think she claims anyone, really."

"Are you…do you have other siblings?" Jacob asked.

Julianne shook her head, "Nope. We're half-sisters, really. We both look like our mother."

"Oh," Jacob said, still surprised and at a loss for words, "What…brings you here?"

Just as he asked the question, Jacob heard the door behind him open. Julianne froze, and her expression hardened. He turned to see Rosalyn standing just outside the door. The two girls stared at each other, and Jacob felt like he was caught between two mirror images. No one spoke for some time.

Finally, Rosalyn simply said, "Julianne."

"Rosalyn?" Julianne asked incredulously, "Seriously? You're here, and you're obviously doing fine…and…seriously?"

"What?" Rosalyn looked guarded.

Julianne crossed closer to her sister and stated, "You promised you'd call me if you came near St. Louis! I told you I would come to your show. I told you I _wanted_ to see you! And instead, I have to find out that you're here from the internet! And I have to hear that your cast was in a pretty bad car accident on the local news! Good grief, I thought something horrible might have happened!"

Rosalyn crossed her arms over her chest, "It's just another show, Julianne."

Julianne threw her arms up in frustration, "It's _Wicked_ for godsake! It's a pretty big deal! It sold out before I even knew you were coming! Why would you not want me to see you?"

Rosalyn looked troubled and uncomfortable, "I've told you. I'm not good company."

"You're my _sister_! You're my only sister! You're almost my only family! And yet you've been ignoring me since you took off after school six years ago!"

Rosalyn studied her hands, and flicked her eyes in Jacob's direction. When no one said anything for a very long minute, he offered, "Look…maybe we should go back to the hotel. I don't think you guys want to fight about this in the street."

Julianne, still looking wounded, said, "I can't say that she even wants me around, even to fight."

Rosalyn heaved a sigh, and rubbed her eyes.

Jacob filled the silence by saying, "Look, I know this isn't really my business, but Rosalyn has had a rough week. We all have. We…we have a cast member in the hospital. She's a good friend…and she's not doing well."

Rosalyn suddenly, without looking at him, took Jacob's hand.

Julianne looked at the two of them, obviously confused. She softened a little, and said, "I'd really like to talk to you, Rosalyn."

Rosalyn appeared to give in, if only out of exhaustion. Without saying anything, she nodded and started back towards the hotel. Jacob had very little choice but to follow, because she was still gripping his hand. Rosalyn led the way as they made the short walk to the hotel, and then took the elevator up to her room. Julianne followed silently, eyeing her surroundings. Jacob let himself be pulled along, wondering if he was going to get to eat something, after all. Only because Rosalyn refused to let go, he followed her all the way into her room. Then, the three of them stood there, silent.

Rosalyn finally asked, "Julianne…what do you really want here?"

Julianne picked up where she'd left off, "I want to have a sister, Rosalyn! I want you to stop ignoring me and making promises you don't keep! I'm graduating this spring. Were you even going to come?"

Rosalyn looked away.

Julianne looked hurt, "And I wish you would've just called! I go to school just hours from here! You could've told me that you're okay…even if I can't see your show. I mean, it was a bad enough accident to be on the news. And it seems like your friend must be hurt pretty badly…"

Rosalyn dropped Jacob's hand and covered her face at the mention of Rebekah.

"And you didn't even tell me you had a boyfriend…which is a big deal, because you've never…"

"He's not my boyfriend," Rosalyn snapped.

Jacob was beyond being offended, and said, "We're just friends."

"Oh," Julianne looked a little deflated, "Still, I just…Rosalyn, I just want to know if this is how the rest of our lives are going to be. I want to know if I'm ever going to have a sister…"

Rosalyn still looked uneasy, "You don't need me," she snapped, "You have plenty of friends. You're talented and beautiful. So we grew up together. You don't have to claim me."

Julianne's eyes flashed, "Is that what this is about? Again? How many times do I have to tell you that what happened with your father doesn't matter to me? I never thought badly of you! I never blamed you!"

Rosalyn rubbed at her temples, "This is why you should stay away. Because you have to bring this up!"

"Well, maybe it's time for you to let it go!"

"I can't let it go! When you're around, it's like I'm suffocating under what happened! That's all you remind me of!"

"Why, Rosalyn?" Julianne looked wounded, "I'm not him! I'm not even his! And you just defended yourself! I'm sorry our mother was so heavy with the guilt, but that wasn't my fault! I never thought you had anything to repent for! So why can't we be sisters?"

Oblivious to the fact that Jacob was still in the room, Rosalyn shouted, "Because I did it for you! I just took it and never said anything, to save you from it! And when I shot him, I did it for you! I defended myself, but it wasn't really about saving me! It was about saving you!"

Julianne was silent for a long moment, and her expression was wildly confused. Rosalyn put her hands in her hair and began to pace. Jacob stood very still, not sure if he should make a quick exit, or be there in case Rosalyn lost it completely. To him, it seemed as though she was close to losing control. She was trying to juggle so many things, emotionally. And he guessed the two sisters had had this argument before. Rosalyn, however, was at a very weak point in her life right now. To Jacob, she looked ready to collapse or explode.

After a long silence, Julianne asked, "Saving me from what? He never hurt me, Rosalyn…"

Rosalyn continued to pace, pulling at her hair, "He would've! It doesn't matter that you weren't his! I saw him looking at you…and you looked just like me," she took a long, trembling breath, "Sure, you were little then, but eventually...he would've raped you too, Julianne. He would've used you and then left you! And you would've been as ruined as me!"

Julianne froze, her mouth open in shock. Jacob felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. Looking at Rosalyn now, they both understood so much. They both saw through the hard, prickly, and often vicious exterior, and saw the wound beneath. They understood the whole story. They both realized the extent of her suffering. They both suddenly understood more clearly why she hated herself and the world around her. They saw what Rebekah had seen, and so many questions were answered.

After a long moment, Julianne whispered, "He raped you?"

Rosalyn clenched her fists and studied the floor, "Yes. For a year."

Julianne drew a breath, "I thought you shot him…because he attacked you…"

"I did," Rosalyn said tightly, "He did. Because, one day, I told him no."

Julianne just stood there with her hands over her mouth in shock. Rosalyn studied the floor, and trembled.

Jacob was considering whether he should say something, when someone very quietly pushed opened the door to the room. They hadn't latched it all the way, and Hayleigh was able to slip in without knocking. Jacob gave her a look of panic and concern, and Hayleigh surveyed the scene before her. She looked from Rosalyn to Julianne, and reacted much the same way Jacob had. She crossed to stand next to him, sensing that whatever had brought her to the room was not as important as what has happening in front of them.

After another minute, Julianne asked sadly, "Why didn't you ever tell me? Why didn't you tell…someone?"

Rosalyn snapped her head up and spat, "Would you have told anyone, if it had been you? Would you have wanted to admit that your father raped you? And do you think anyone would've believed me?"

"They have ways to prove that…" Julianne offered, "But yes, I would've believed you."

Rosalyn clutched at her hair again, "Our mother wouldn't have. She's never gotten over that I killed him in self defense. She's still afraid that I'm damned, which is most likely true."

Julianne's expression suddenly hardened, "No, it's not."

Rosalyn drew a quick breath, and her eyes were dark, "That's so easy for you to say! You got to grow up with a mother who adored you and friends who called you every day! You got to be a cheerleader and go to prom! You had boyfriends and everyone signed your yearbook! You were like…a perfect, better version of me! You have no idea what it's like to grow up knowing your life is already over! You have no idea what it's like to be used and manipulated by someone who should love you! You don't know what it's like to listen to a preacher tell you every Sunday that you're going to hell! You don't know! You _can't_ know!"

Julianne's voice was very small, when she offered, "I might've known…if you had ever told me what happened. If you had told me how you felt…"

"I did tell someone how I felt!" Rosalyn exploded again, "and that one person, who I trusted, who I thought might really understand, is in a coma! My first friend, my _only_ friend, most likely won't ever wake up! This is what I do, Julianne! This is the kind of thing I _cause_! This is why you should _stay away from me_!"

Rosalyn was trembling violently by then, and they all held their breath as she put her face in her hands. Then, in a chaotic whirl, she reached around and seized a glass vase off the table behind her. In one, quick motion, she heaved it across the room and watched it shatter against the far wall. Julianne let out a little squeal, and Jacob was afraid to move. It was Hayleigh, however, who reacted.

As Rosalyn stood there, still trembling, Hayleigh stepped in front of her. She looked into Rosalyn's eyes without shock or disbelief at what she'd done. She took Rosalyn's hands, and said, "Sometimes, we scatter stones, remember? And that's all right. There's nothing wrong with angry. You have a right to get angry. And there's nothing wrong with sad. It's just a broken vase, and better it than you. Better it be broken, and you heal."

Jacob was surprised, because he probably would've tried to hold Rosalyn and tell her to calm down. He probably would've fussed over her and tried to take away what she was feeling. But Hayleigh just let her feel. She justified Rosalyn's feelings and allowed her to be angry and a bit crazy. Hayleigh allowed the pain to be cathartic. And suddenly, it didn't seem like Rosalyn was spiraling out of control, but that she was working through yet another layer of things she should have let herself feel long ago. By seeking her out, Julianne had unwittingly exposed her sister, but exposure is often the first step in purging. Looking at Rosalyn in that moment, Jacob understood how much she needed to purge.

Hayleigh held onto Rosalyn's hands until she'd calmed somewhat. Then, she very carefully changed the subject, "Rebekah responded a little. That's what I came to tell you, because I still don't have your phone number. They still have her in the coma, but her body responded to stimulus."

Very quietly, Rosalyn asked, "Is that good?"

Hayleigh nodded, "Cautiously, yes. It at least means…her brain is alive. She's not gone yet."

Rosalyn seemed take some comfort in that, and Julianne stepped in towards her sister. Suddenly overcome by the realization of what she'd learned, Julianne started to cry softly. She wrapped Rosalyn in a tight embrace, and Hayleigh put her arms around them. Jacob went over and put his hand on Rosalyn's shoulder, so she would know he was there as well. Rosalyn gradually began to stop trembling, and Jacob realized that this was probably the first time she'd ever been completely surrounded by people who loved her. This was her first real family, in a way. And as difficult as the moment was, it was good.


	24. Chapter 24: Virgin

**Chapter 24: Virgin**

Julianne stayed for the weekend, and Hayleigh couldn't help but watch how she interacted with her sister. Unlike everyone else, Julianne was not afraid to touch Rosalyn. She would reach out and take her hand, or absentmindedly brush Rosalyn's long, dark hair back when they sat next to each other. Rosalyn allowed Julianne to harass her a little, in lighter moments, and she could get away with kissing Rosalyn on the cheek when she made an exit. No matter what their troubles might be, they were clearly sisters. It reminded Hayleigh of her relationship with Rebekah, and that was hard.

Every minute and hour was hard, if Hayleigh was being honest. Every visit into Rebekah's hospital room was painfully similar. Daily, she sat with Rebekah's parents, and handed out tissues when Gayle cried. She listened to the doctors and learned her way around the hospital. She passed news on to Jacob, who was trying to run interference for the rest of the cast. They were all concerned, but couldn't easily visit due to the restrictions in the ICU.

With Jacob's help, Hayleigh had also managed to convince Landon to go back to Gayle and Jack's room and take a shower. Jacob had brought his and Rebekah's things over to the Rawlings' hotel room when they'd first checked in, since the tour wasn't willing to pay for a room Rebekah would not be using. Landon had looked as though he might come apart when he saw Rebekah's suitcases stacked in the room. So they had ushered him to the bathroom, and Jacob had stayed to make sure Landon was all right.

In that way, Hayleigh and Jacob took care of things as best they could. They both tried to work through their own grief and navigate the unknown territory of tragedy. In addition, Hayleigh was glad she had enough time off to travel, and that the accident had happened at the end of her dance season. It allowed her time to be here, to sit with her best friend while she struggled for life. It allowed her these quiet moments, just to pray, and to hope.

In the midst of all the hardship, however, there were still some good things. Julianne's visit seemed to have helped Rosalyn, however unexpected it might have been. Both Jacob and Hayleigh were glad to see her making it through each day without incident. In spite of her own grief, Hayleigh understood that Rosalyn was probably the most fragile among them. She was the least able to pick herself up and move on, should the worst happen. Hayleigh also felt something of a responsibility to Rosalyn, now. So she was glad that Rosalyn had spilled her secrets to her sister, and to Jacob, however accidentally. Rosalyn was developing a circle of people she could lean on, and Hayleigh understood how important that could be. In her own way, she understood how much it meant, to have a sister.

* * *

At the end of the weekend, Julianne was reluctant to go back to school for her final exams. She was younger, and less hardened, than her sister, but she understood Rosalyn better than all of them. Her unexpected visit had turned into much more than she'd planned, but she couldn't regret coming. She'd only intended to confront Rosalyn and try to get her to agree to spend more time together. She'd never expected to be plunged into such a terrible pit of secrets. She'd never imagined her sister could have hidden something like that. Still, she was glad to know. And she was glad that her sister had some real friends. She's never known Rosalyn to be social, and she worried about her constant isolation. Now, however, Julianne understood it.

When she'd mentioned staying longer, though, Rosalyn had nearly jumped down her throat. She threatened to drive Julianne back to school herself, if she argued. And it was in times like those that Julianne saw how much her sister cared, in spite of how Rosalyn had ignored her for the past few years. Rosalyn wouldn't let her jeopardize graduation. She was harsh, and she never minced words, but she cared. So Julianne left, promising to visit in a few weeks when final exams were finished.

As she drove back to school, she thought about what her sister had endured. She thought about what it must have taken to drive Rosalyn to the point of confession. She wondered what made her choose this Rebekah as her friend, or if maybe Rebekah had chosen Rosalyn. And even without knowing her, Julianne began to hope that this girl she'd never met, who lay lifeless in a hospital bed, would wake up.

* * *

Rosalyn's first conversation with Jacob after her sister was gone was decidedly awkward. He walked her back to her room after the show Tuesday night, and they both stopped at her door. She turned toward him before opening it, though, and couldn't make herself meet his eyes.

Carefully, she said, "Look…I understand…if this is too weird for you, now. You don't have to keep doing this. I'm okay on my own."

Jacob tried to meet her gaze, "If what's too weird?"

Rosalyn sighed, "You don't have to walk with me. You don't have to be around me. I know you care about Rebekah, she's your friend, too. But…you don't have to act like nothing happened."

Jacob still looked confused, "Rosalyn…I really don't understand."

She finally looked at him, not wanting to explain, "Now…you know. You had to see me lose it like that, with my sister. You had to hear all that stuff…"

Suddenly, understanding colored Jacob's face. He took a deep breath and said, "Rosalyn…that's not what matters to me. That's the past. And…I sort of…had a feeling…anyway."

"Oh," Rosalyn said softly.

Jacob looked at her, and she struggled with what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him she was grateful. She wanted to repeat everything she'd said to Julianne, just to make sure he understood how awful it was. She was afraid that the truth would sink in, in time, and he would be disgusted with her. And, underneath all that, she wanted to reach out and touch him. She wanted to fall into his kindness and patience, and let herself feel him. A part of her wanted to let him love her. The rest of her wasn't sure that she was ready.

So Rosalyn gave him a little smile and said, "Get some sleep. You look tired."

She opened the door and retreated to the safety of her room, knowing she'd left him alone and confused on the other side of the door.

* * *

Rosalyn surprised herself over the next couple of weeks. She felt a little calmer, in spite of the situation around her. She was still terribly afraid for Rebekah, but she didn't feel as out of control. She thought it might be Hayleigh's strong presence, along with the unexpected confrontation with her sister, which had drained some of her anger. She didn't have to carry everything alone. The burden of Rebekah's injury, as well as her own demons, were spread over a group of people she could trust. For Rosalyn, it made a great difference.

Over those two weeks, she let Jacob take her to eat lunch, and they went to the hospital together. She talked to him like a friend, and she almost forgot that he was the guy who was in love with her. And, in a way, it seemed Jacob did, too. He listened as Rosalyn talked about her sister, now that she was no longer a secret. That was the one thing about her life Rosalyn felt she could talk about. So she told Jacob how she'd help take care of Julianne when she'd been born. She explained how her sister's father had left, not wanting to deal with an infant. After that, it had been just Rosalyn and her mother. So Rosalyn had cared for her tiny sister while her mother tried to support them. It had derailed their mother's plans to go to school and learn English. Instead, she had taken whatever jobs she could to pay the bills.

Jacob seemed surprised that Rosalyn was still quite sympathetic towards the mother who had tried to force religion on her. He didn't understand why she felt mercy for the woman who made her feel damned.

"It's not her fault," Rosalyn had explained, "She just wanted to make it right. She's my mother. It's how she was raised. And, really, it was the church who told both of us I was damned."

She could tell he wanted to argue with her, but she shook him off and changed the subject.

Over those two weeks, they talked like that often. They talked while sitting in the ICU waiting room, or when they got to the theater early because there was little else they wanted to do. Sometimes, they still sat up in the sitting area in the hotel at night, or on the patio by the pool. To keep their minds off their grief, they talked. It helped make the time pass, as they all anxiously awaited the day that Rebekah would be allowed to wake up.

Two weeks after the accident, Rosalyn gave in to their director's suggestion and decided to take a week off from the show. She'd had no vacation since they'd begun, and Jonathan was worried that she was pushing too hard. He felt it was a good time, since the tour had finally been able to take on some new cast members. They'd also been able to train new understudies, after shifting things to replace Rebekah. And even without her saying it, he could tell Rosalyn was having a hard time without Rebekah.

Jacob also hesitantly made the request that he be allowed to take a few shows off the same week. It was the week the doctors were supposed to end Rebekah's coma, and he very much wanted to be able to help however he could. Jonathan, being a compassionate person, gave in to his request. It was not unheard of to have both of their understudies up, and Megan was well-rehearsed.

The Sunday that began Rosalyn's week off, she went looking for Jacob. She found him outside, sitting in a chair on the patio by the pool. It was late afternoon, after the matinee, and it was a nice day. The air was warm, and the sky was clear above them.

Rosalyn pulled a chair next to him, and said, "I heard you're cutting a few shows this week?"

Jacob looked over and smiled, "Yeah…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

"I didn't want you to change your mind and feel like you had to be there."

Rosalyn cocked her head, "That does sound like me."

"Megan and Tyler can handle it. In fact, Tyler's probably better than me," Jacob mused.

Rosalyn looked at him, her hair blowing in the early May breeze, and said, "No. He's not better than you. You don't give yourself enough credit."

Jacob looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Don't look so surprised," she threw out, "you've grown on me."

"I think…that's just the first compliment you've ever given me," Jacob said quietly.

Rosalyn rolled her eyes, but she smiled in spite of herself.

"So," Jacob started, "are you willing to say that we're friends, now?"

Rosalyn look at him, and her expression softened, "Yes. Yes…friends. Especially…with everything, right now…you're a good friend."

"Thanks," Jacob said sincerely, and then he looked away for a moment, thinking. After a time, he asked carefully, "Rosalyn…I want to ask you something."

She looked at her hands, feeling a twinge of fear.

"Can you tell me what happened with your father?"

Rosalyn felt the fear balloon into panic, and she twisted her fingers together roughly, "You already know," she choked out.

"I know," Jacob said softly, "but I want you to tell me."

"Why?" she snapped.

"So that it isn't this huge, unspoken thing between us. And so I can show you that it doesn't matter."

Rosalyn looked up at him then, and his face was kind, but firm.

She opened her mouth to argue, but the arguments suddenly felt stale and repetitive. She'd been hiding behind the same things for so many years, and she'd started to feel like keeping secrets had lost its effectiveness. She was no longer satisfied with her life of isolation and control. Rebekah, and now Hayleigh and her sister, had made her consider that there might be more. So, when she opened her mouth to speak, the story came spilling out.

Rosalyn haltingly told Jacob the same thing she'd told Rebekah a few months previous. She looked at the ground, or her hands, and she struggled with some parts. Still, the story came out. And Jacob listened, without interrupting, and kept his expression calm. When she was done, they sat there in silence, and Rosalyn took a few deep breaths to calm the powerful emotions that always came with talking about her life.

Very quietly, she said, "The hardest part is…when it comes down to it, he was still my father. And he's gone. And…it's easier to hate yourself…than to hate someone who should've loved you…"

Sensing that words were cheap, Jacob simply reached over and took her hand again. And just like he'd said, it didn't matter.

Later that night, when she was alone in her room, and the fear and anger that came with remembering her childhood had faded, Rosalyn realized that there was something else. There was a new feeling underneath the anger. She struggled with it for a little while, trying to decide what it meant, and then she tried to decide what she wanted. Rosalyn tried to figure out if she was ready, if she would ever be ready. Then, long after everyone had gone to bed, she carefully penned a few words onto a scrap of paper, and slipped it under Jacob's door. Then, she slept.

* * *

The following morning, Jacob made his way towards the theater, clutching a small piece of paper. He'd read it over and over, trying to decide what it meant. Part of him was afraid of bad news, of something he'd not yet heard about Rebekah. Another part of him hoped that Rosalyn was finally opening up to him. Feeling entirely conflicted, he pulled opened the stage door and read over her note one more time as he walked down the darkened hallways.

_Rehearsal studio. 11am. _

_Rosalyn_

Jacob heard her before he saw her. She was in the only studio this theater had, at the dusty piano in the corner. From the hallway, he could hear her playing _Hallelujah,_ which seemed to be her anthem. He slowly pushed open the door, and she didn't look up from the piano. Jacob crossed the room and stood in front of the instrument, listening. After a few more measures, Rosalyn stopped, and looked up to meet his eyes.

"Come. Play," was all she said.

Jacob obeyed, dropping silently onto the bench beside her. They played together for a while, taking turns choosing new songs. When one of them struggled, the other compensated, and they lost themselves in the music. For both of them, it was their own sort of communication. It was more personal, more poignant, than words. It was their catharsis, still.

Eventually, Rosalyn pulled her hands away from the keys and was still. She turned and looked Jacob, and there was something different in her eyes. It was something more than the usual fear or guarded indifference. Jacob couldn't quite name it.

After a few moments, Rosalyn very carefully reached up and touched his face. She pulled herself closer, and very slowly, she kissed him. It was feather-light and filled with trepidation, but she kissed him. She lingered there for some time, letting her hands find his hair. Jacob was very still, not wanting to scare her. His pulse raced, but he also understood that this moment was very much about her. So he was still, until she pulled back.

Rosalyn looked down at the bench where they sat, and asked softly, "Can I tell you something?"

"Always," Jacob answered.

Rosalyn drew a breath, "I've never felt that before."

"What?" he asked.

"That…that. That feeling…that rush. When you kissed me…the last time, at the piano. That's why I ran. I've never felt that."

Jacob was again dumbfounded, "You've never been kissed? As in…really kissed?"

"No," Rosalyn shook her head, "I've done it all. You know that. We won't pretend that's not true. I've just…I've never felt anything…"

Realization suddenly washed over Jacob, and he was overwhelmed by the implications of what she was saying, "Never?" he asked.

She shook her head again, "Never. Not with anyone."

"Wow," Jacob said, floored, "Not even…but, I mean…then why would you keep…"

Rosalyn sensed what he wasn't saying, "There were a lot of men. I'm not going to lie to you. But it wasn't about pleasure, Jacob. It was about control."

He understood, then. After a moment, he said, "I think…that's a different kind of virginity, then…"

Rosalyn looked startled, and she laughed cynically, "I haven't been a virgin since I was thirteen."

Jacob considered, "Maybe. In one way."

"There's only one way," Rosalyn spat.

"No," Jacob argued, "Purity isn't that black and white."

Rosalyn studied him. She seemed to be mulling over what he'd said. Whether she was convinced, she wouldn't say. After another long moment, she reached out and took his hands. Then, she took a breath and said, "Jacob…I want you to make love to me."

He was floored, and he couldn't find words. He studied her face, trying to decide if she was delirious, or playing some sort of game. She held his gaze steadily, though, and Jacob chose his words carefully, "Rosalyn…even if that's what you want, you don't have to rush this. If you have feelings for me, that's incredible. But we don't have to rush."

Rosalyn shook her head, undeterred, "We're not. I know you better than I've ever known anyone, ever. I know you better than I know my own family. Maybe…even better than Rebekah," she swallowed, struggling, "You're…my other best friend. And…I want it to be you."

"Are you sure you're not…just emotional? Because of Rebekah?"

Rosalyn sat back, still holding his hands. She thought for a moment, and said, "Yes, it's about Rebekah," she paused, "And Hayleigh. And my sister. They were all right. I have to try to get over it. I have to hope. I have to trust. When Rebekah wakes up…I want her to see that she made a difference…for me. When she comes out of this, I don't want it to have been in vain."

Jacob looked at their hands, entwined. Very softly, he said, "All right…"

Rosalyn stood up then, and pulled him with her. She pulled him out of the room and down the hall, and he asked, "Now?"

She gave him a look, and continued to pull him towards the door. Without saying a word, she led the way out of the building and all the way back to their hotel. She pulled Jacob into the elevator, and then down the hall to her room. Opening the door, she pulled him inside. Leading him to the center of the room, she stopped. Then, Rosalyn was still.

Jacob stood in front of her, uncertain. He very carefully brushed her hair back from her face, finding himself caught up in just being able to touch her. He offered, "I mean it, Rosalyn. This doesn't have to happen now."

She cocked her head and said, "I have never had to try this hard to get someone in bed with me."

Jacob touched her face, saying, "It's only noon…"

Rosalyn looked at him with a firm expression. Her voice was full of meaning when she said, "I know. It's daylight. There's no shadows. There's no candles, or cheap lingerie. In fact…"

She stopped talking, and crossed to the window. In one motion, she pulled the drapes open completely, so that sunlight poured in. Luckily, they were on the tenth floor, facing some trees. Satisfied, Rosalyn crossed back to him, and Jacob understood.

Still, he was hesitant. He reached up and pulled out the clip she had in her hair, so that the rest of it fell loose around her. It was longer than he remembered, and he ran his fingers through it, savoring the new feeling. He traced the line of her jaw, and looked into her intense, dark eyes. Then, he leaned in and kissed her again.

They sank into it, and Rosalyn stepped in to close the space between them. Tentatively, Jacob let the kiss deepen. She parted her lips, and responded hungrily. Then, she brought her hands up and tangled them in his hair. Jacob was lost in the moment, lost in her, and in a way that made him feel terribly naïve, he couldn't believe that there could be more than this. He was caught up in the softness of her lips and the warmth of her body pressed close to his. He carefully wrapped his arms around her and felt the softness of her hair on his skin. Then, after several minutes, she finally pulled away.

Rosalyn took a trembling breath, and looked down for a moment. She touched her fingers to her lips, and then held onto his arms as she tried to calm herself. She looked up at him and said, "I'm sorry. I just…I have no idea what I'm doing…"

Jacob looked at her, and he was surprised at how different this person was from the woman who'd tried to seduce him several weeks earlier. Gone were the perfect makeup and the seductive smile. Gone were the carefully chosen lingerie and the well-played routine. This was real. This was Rosalyn, open and exposed before him.

He considered telling her that he had no idea what he was doing either. He thought about confessing that he was moving on instinct as well. Jacob held his tongue, however. Looking at her, he decided that this had to be about her. She was working through enough things, and she didn't need to worry about him. Telling her about his virginity would only make her compare herself to him. It would only make her focus on his issues. And this was for her.

So Jacob kept quiet, and kissed her again. He put his hands in her hair and savored the feeling of his mouth on hers. He very gently kissed her cheeks, and then worked his way down her neck to the line of her shirt. Rosalyn let out a little moan, and surprised him by pulling the shirt over head and casting it away. She pulled back far enough to get at the buttons on his shirt. Fumbling a little, she managed to work them open and push the shirt to the floor. She studied him for a minute, and very gently ran her hands over his body. Jacob shuddered, and Rosalyn kissed him once more.

Rosalyn stepped back then, and very deliberately kicked off her sandals. Slowly, she slid her jeans to the ground. Then, she pressed her lips to his again, and worked at the button on his shorts. Jacob drew a quick breath as she pushed them to the floor. He kicked them away, along with his shoes, and they stood there, facing each other, still too close to really see one another.

Rosalyn put her hands on his arms and said softly, "I know this probably isn't very…sexy. I mean, I can think of more seductive ways to get clothing off, but…I just…I need this to be slow. I need this to be…different."

Jacob lifted her chin and looked in her eyes, and said, "Me too."

Rosalyn took a breath, and then reached around and unlatched her bra. She let it fall to the floor. Then, she slowly did the same with her underwear. For a moment, she just stood there, as if to say, 'this is me'. With great trepidation, Jacob followed suit. And they both stood there, naked.

At first, Jacob was afraid to really look at her. He'd never imagined that this moment would be real. He also didn't want her to feel like her body was all that mattered. He was certain she'd been leered at enough. After a moment, he brushed her hair back behind her shoulders. He kissed her softly, and then he stepped back and looked at her.

She was perfection. She was perfection in a way that made him feel awkward and unworthy. Jacob knew that he wasn't bad looking. He had a nice physique and he tried to stay in shape, but he was no underwear model. He was certainly not one to go proudly parading around naked. He was average. He was only a touch taller than her, and was more boyish than ruggedly handsome.

Rosalyn, however, was gorgeous on a different level. Her dark hair tumbled down her back, brushing her ivory, Spanish skin. She wasn't rail-thin, like so many girls, but she was long-legged and her body flowed in gentle curves, like she'd been drawn with one fluid stroke of an artist's quill. Her breasts were full, and just imperfect enough for him to believe there was nothing fake about her. As she stood there, looking at the floor, Jacob felt that he paled in comparison.

Rosalyn looked back at him, and let her eyes wander over his body. She had been with enough men to know that handsome was overrated. Even the most sculpted body had failed to touch her heart. This, however, was Jacob. She felt a warm, rush flow through her, because it was him. Because she wanted _him._

She stepped back into him then, and kissed him. She wrapped her arms around his chest so that their bodies were pressed together, skin to skin. She felt him tremble. She felt his heartbeat and the warmth of his flesh. She felt his arousal, and continued to be surprised at how her own body responded. She had never felt anything but anger and control when she'd had sex. She'd never made love. There had never been love, or even attraction, for her. And now, she was caught up in the way her body ached and tingled, and wanted him.

Still, she moved slowly. With each kiss, and every touch, she tested herself. She was hyper-aware of how she felt, and she wondered if there would be any fear. This, however, was entirely different from every other sexual encounter that she'd had. In the moment, she found she just wanted to be with him. She wanted to meld together with this man, this friend, who made her feel so valuable. She wanted to know what it was to make love. She wanted to follow her feelings to their conclusion and know the power of climax. She wanted to feel like a woman, who had a right to her own body and who could both give and receive pleasure.

So Rosalyn pulled Jacob onto the bed and took her time running kisses over his body. She touched and looked, and tried to memorize him. She kissed his mouth and lay with him, skin on skin from shoulders to toes. She lay back and let him trail his mouth over her body. Jacob was slow and deliberate, and every inch of her seemed to surprise and to captivate him. He was hesitant, and he took his time, which was foreign to her. He ran his hands over every inch of her, kissing his way down her stomach to the insides of her thighs. Rosalyn gasped and took several deep breaths when he let his mouth trail over the most intimate parts of her body. He worked his way back up, kissing her breasts and letting one hand run up the inside of her thigh to touch her body gently. He carefully explored her, and she was shocked at how warm she felt. Rosalyn was surprised by the raw, driving desire.

After some time, Jacob stopped, and he looked into her eyes. His face was a question, and Rosalyn lay beneath him, breathless. She wanted him. She wanted him then, but as she looked up at him, there was a twinge of fear. She'd never let a man lay on top of her. After her father's treatment of her, she had been determined to dominate every man she was with. Now, though, she wanted Jacob to change that. She wanted to be able to give in to him, to trust that he wouldn't hurt her. So Rosalyn answered his unspoken question with a long, deep kiss. She pulled him closer, so they were wrapped in each other. Then, she shifted her weight underneath him. Sensing his hesitation, she reached down and guided their bodies together, and he pressed himself inside of her.

They stayed that way for a moment, just looking at each other.

Jacob whispered, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, and then asked, "You?"

"Yes…I just…it's just…I never…"

Rosalyn kissed him then, so he didn't have to find the words.

After a moment, they moved together. Jacob kept his eyes on her, and she clung to him. She ran her hands over his back, and kissed his neck and shoulder. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she could feel her body responding. Closing her eyes, she went with it. She shoved away the memories of all the other times, and of how she'd been hurt. She focused on the sensation in the moment.

Rosalyn heard herself say Jacob's name, and she clutched at him. She felt his body start to climax, and he froze. He shuddered against her, and he seemed altogether at the mercy of his own body. In the moment, Rosalyn felt things she'd never imagined before. Her body took over out of some sort of carnal instinct, and she moved against him while he climaxed. This drew a moan from him, and her body responded almost in spite of her. The ache deep within her suddenly became waves of pleasure that took her breath and rendered her senseless. Rosalyn wrapped her legs around him and gave in. She let the pleasure wash over her and flood her with warmth. She let herself twitch and tremble and moan. And then they lay there, tangled in each other and breathing warm breath on each other's cheeks.

After a moment, Rosalyn turned her head and whispered into his ear in a low, throaty voice, "Hallelujah."

Jacob pulled back just enough to look in her eyes, and she was struck by the intensity of the emotion she saw there.

Concerned, she asked softly, "What's wrong?"

He looked as though he wanted to say something terribly important, but instead, he said, "Nothing."

Kissing her softly, he added, "Nothing…I just…this is just the most amazing moment I've ever had."

Rosalyn smiled a little, and then he shifted to lie beside her. They didn't say anything, but just stayed that way. After a time, they drifted into sleep.

* * *

A little while later, Jacob struggled to pull himself back into consciousness. He was confused at first, and searched for his bedside clock to see what time it was. He thought, for a moment, that he might've slept late and missed a matinee. Then he remembered that it should be Monday. Pulling his eyes open, he stretched in the bed, and realized he was naked. He opened his eyes and looked around.

Across the room, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight, stood Rosalyn. She was looking out the window, with her hair falling around her nakedness. Her expression was distant and thoughtful, and Jacob just stared at her. He stared at her, and he remembered.


	25. Chapter 25: Hope Lost

**Chapter 25: Hope Lost**

For a long moment, Jacob didn't move. He was very still, just taking Rosalyn in. He was a little afraid that if he said something, he would break the spell. He was afraid he would wake up and realize this whole experience had been a dream. So he watched her, as she gazed out the window into the fading afternoon sun.

Jacob was conflicted in how he felt. On one hand, he couldn't believe he'd lived twenty-seven years and never done that. He wasn't sure why he'd said no so many times. And yet he was also incredibly glad that this moment had been with Rosalyn. He loved her, of that he was still certain. It wasn't merely lust, because he wasn't satisfied. He wanted her to come back to the bed so he could hold her. He wanted her to tell him more of her secrets, and let him be the keeper of the things she told no one else. He wanted intimacy that was more than physical. And he wanted to make up for all the ways she'd been cheated and hurt. So, after several minutes, he finally moved. Jacob slid off the bed and crossed to where Rosalyn stood.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and said, "I love you. I hope you know that."

Rosalyn didn't pull away. She continued to look out the window, and asked, "Have you said that to many women?"

Jacob took a long breath, wondering if now was the time to finally make his confession. After all, she deserved to know. He wouldn't keep secrets from her. He just hadn't wanted to cloud her moment with his issues.

After a moment, he said, "No. I've never said it to anyone else."

Rosalyn cocked her head to look up at him, "No one? Really? Someone like you has never been in love?"

"No…not with enough certainty to say it. In fact…there's a lot I've never done. Until today."

Still facing the window, she asked, "What does that mean?"

Jacob took a deep breath, "I…I've never made love…until today. I've done…other stuff. I'm not totally inexperienced. But…I was a virgin."

Rosalyn very slowly turned around. She stood in front of him and studied him with a look of absolute shock on her face. She didn't say anything for a long time, and Jacob started to wonder if she was angry.

When she finally spoke, she asked, "How is that possible?"

Jacob tried to smile, "I just…I didn't want to sleep with someone I wasn't sure I was in love with. I wanted to be committed. And most girls…that freaked them out. Or I just didn't think I loved them enough."

Rosalyn looked a little afraid, "And how do you know I'm committed?"

"_I'm_ committed. To you. I'm yours. You have my heart, Rosalyn. I can't undo it. I will always love you."

Suddenly looking troubled, Rosalyn crossed to the sofa and pulled a blanket around her body. She wrapped her arms around herself and said, "Jacob…how could you let me take something like that? I shouldn't be the keeper of anyone's virginity."

"Because I wanted it to be you. It was my choice, and I choose you."

Rosalyn sat down and picked at invisible lint on the sofa. Jacob crossed back to the bed and pulled on his shorts, to cover his nakedness. Then, he went back to the sofa and sat down beside her. There was a long silence, as they sat there.

"Jacob," Rosalyn finally began, "I really can't understand why you would pick me. I have never understood. I get that you're my friend, and I'm glad for that. I can accept your friendship...that's part of why...I wanted you. But, as for loving me...what is it? I might be attractive…but that's not unique. And…Jacob, you know…who I am. Why would you want to give up your virginity…to someone like me? Why would you want to be one of…hundreds?"

Jacob didn't answer right away. He reached out and brushed her mussed up hair back from her face. He ran his hands over her shoulders, which were covered by the soft blanket. He reached down and took her hands, and then leaned in and gently kissed her. With the memory of their lovemaking still fresh in their minds, they easily sank into it. Rosalyn pulled herself closer, letting the blanket drop around her waist.

After a minute, before he forgot completely what he was trying to say, Jacob pulled back. He pulled the blanket back around Rosalyn's bare shoulders, and said, "That's why. Because I'm not just one out of hundreds. There's something between us. Something different, that I can't explain. I don't know why I feel this way, but it's real. That first day I saw you singing…I knew there was something…"

"Yes…" she whispered, touching her lips, "there is something..."

"But," Jacob continued, "this isn't all I wanted from you, Rosalyn. I meant what I said…I'm committed. I love you, now. I love you when you're angry or hurt, or just want to be left alone. I love you. Intentionally. I won't walk away…"

Rosalyn looked at him. She looked down at her hands and whispered, "I'm not sure if I'm ready to say that yet, Jacob. Saying that I love you…that's hard for me…"

Jacob tipped her chin upward, "I'm not asking you to say it yet. I'm just asking you to trust me…and see what happens. And know that…I will always look into your eyes before I look at your body. I will always know your name. I will always be there at dawn. I'm not perfect, Rosalyn, but I will never leave you alone at three AM. You never have to be used like that again."

Rosalyn didn't answer, but her eyes were intense as she looked at him. She leaned in and kissed him again, and Jacob didn't resist. Casting the blanket away from herself, she said, "Then I think, given the circumstances, I have a lot to teach you."

And she did. She pulled herself into his lap and wrapped her long legs around his waist. She kissed him thoroughly, until he was nearly senseless and aching for her again. That night, Rosalyn pushed the boundaries of what Jacob had dared to imagine about lovemaking. She wove a spell of ecstasy that made him nearly forget who and where he was. She took him on the sofa, with her long hair tumbling around them. She laid him out in the bed and worked over his body with a patience that drove him to beg for mercy. She made him wait. She made him plead. She made him scream.

And Jacob, in turn, showed her how to feel. He started to understand the rhythms of her body, and he made her lay back and receive. He refused to take without giving, and as powerful as she could be, he could make her tremble and surrender. Under his hands, Rosalyn finally gave up her own sort of virginity. That night, for the first time, she _wanted. _She wanted without anger or ulterior motive. She was a woman, rather than a scared little girl trying to absolve her sins and her anger. He was a man, no longer afraid and nursing regret. And they were one, with one another.

* * *

The following week progressed in much the same way. For those few days, it felt as though they'd crept away to their own sort of sanctuary, with just each other. Rosalyn mostly stayed in the room, sleeping soundly or lounging in an old t-shirt. Jacob brought her whatever she needed, and left only to get food or to do the shows he was committed to. They watched movies and cheesy infomercials late at night. They held each other under the blankets and talked about the cities that were left on the tour. The talked about shows they'd done and experiences they'd had. They made love until they were exhausted, and fell asleep in each others arms.

The few times Rosalyn ventured out of the hotel room, however, she kept quiet about the change in hers and Jacob's relationship. The most she would do is hold onto his fingers as they walked to the hospital to visit Rebekah, or to the theater to get something she'd left. If the others suspected, they didn't let on. Rosalyn assumed that Hayleigh and Landon were too caught up in their grief over Rebekah to take notice of much. Still, she wasn't ready for them to know. She hadn't finished sorting out what she wanted. She wasn't ready to believe that Jacob's feelings could last. And she wasn't sure if this was merely a distraction for her, from the tragedy around her. She wasn't convinced yet that she was capable of really loving him.

So the days passed, and before they realized, it was Friday. Rosalyn had just one more day before she was on again at the show. This would also be the day that Rebekah's doctors would try to bring her out of her coma. They had all been anxiously anticipating this day for some time, although Rosalyn refused to voice her feelings about it. The hope she was holding onto felt too fragile. To put it out there made her afraid that it would shatter.

They all gathered in the ICU waiting room around three o'clock that afternoon, and very few words were exchanged. Landon looked pale and worn, with a shadow of stubble across his face. Hayleigh was pensive and kept ringing her hands together. Rebekah's parents clung to one another, with Gayle looking as though she might burst into tears once again.

Standing there, Rosalyn reached over and took Jacob's hand. She squeezed it tightly, and he dared to carefully snake his arm around her shoulders and pull her into him. Hayleigh caught the gesture, and gave them a brief, confused glance before turning her attention back to her hands.

After several excruciating minutes, Rebekah's doctor came in to speak to them. He explained that only family would be allowed back, with Landon being considered family. Hayleigh looked like she wanted to argue, but Gayle laid a hand on her arm. Her expression seemed to say that they didn't need arguing today. So Hayleigh backed down and watched as Rebekah's parents, followed by Landon, made their way back to the ICU. Then, they waited.

It was nearly an hour before anyone returned to update them, and even then, there wasn't much news. They had stopped the drugs that were keeping Rebekah comatose, but they had to allow time for it to purge from her system. It would take time for her body to try to make its way into consciousness. So they waited. They got coffee from the hospital cafeteria and sipped distractedly in silence. Rosalyn clutched Jacob's hand and stared out the window. Hayleigh paced erratically and looked ready to storm the ICU at any moment. Still, they waited.

Finally, late that night when the hospital had quieted and most visitors had gone home, Rebekah's mother emerged again. Rebekah's doctor followed, looking weary. They sat down in a couple of the waiting room chairs, and Hayleigh anxiously took a seat beside Jacob.

The doctor began slowly, "Ms. Rawlings has asked me to fill you in, because she says you're all very nearly family," he took a breath, "At this point, Rebekah is still not responding. She has been taken off all sedation, but she's not responding to external stimulus. We didn't expect her to truly 'wake up' at this point. She's on a ventilator and cannot speak. However, we're looking for recognition and cognitive awareness. For example, blinking and making eye contact, or just periods of wakefulness. We cannot remove the tube in her throat until we have that. We also won't know the extent to which her brain might be injured until she responds to us."

Hayleigh clenched her fists, and asked tightly, "So what does that mean?"

The doctor took a deep breath, and continued, "I don't know what it means. I know that sounds frustrating, but this is what we deal with when we have traumatic brain injury. There is no set pattern that every patient follows. Your Rebekah might wake up in a few days fully alert, or she might remain unresponsive. All we know right now is that she is not brain dead. She has brain activity. And that is good."

Very softly, Rosalyn asked, "What do you mean by 'remain unresponsive?"

The doctor wound his fingers together and considered them for a moment. Then, he ran a hand through his graying hair and stated, "I'm not going to hold back on you. I know this is incredibly difficult, but I respect you enough not to lie to you. There is a chance that she could remain vegetative for the rest of her life. That means she might be awake, but she would be entirely unresponsive, both physically and verbally. There is the chance that she will never regain consciousness. She might deteriorate to the point of brain death. Or, she may wake up and regain cognitive function. I cannot tell you what will happen, though. We can see that there has been injury, and bleeding in her brain. How that will affect her, we simply cannot know."

"This...though. The fact that she didn't respond today...that's bad, isn't it?" Hayleigh asked with a hard, sadness in her voice.

The doctor paused, and then nodded slowly, "It's not the best sign, but it's also not a definite prognosis."

They all sat there for a few minutes, lost in their thoughts and not saying anything. The doctor sat with them, understanding their struggle. After a time, Rosalyn stood and paced the room a few times. She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, but said nothing. Then, she turned and slammed out the door, rattling the walls with her grief.

Jacob stood to go after her, and Hayleigh followed him to the door. With Rebekah's parents now quietly questioning the doctor further, Hayleigh stopped Jacob and said, "I know she's hurting...but she seems to be opening up to you…"

Jacob studied her face, "Yes…she is."

"This is killing her…I can tell. As much as it is me. It makes me want to be selfish, and claim Rebekah as _my _friend, as my sister. Is that crazy?"

"No," Jacob shook his head, "but you're bigger than that, I think. Because you know what a difference Rebekah has made for her."

Hayleigh sighed, and he could see the fatigue and the pain in her face, "Try to get her to keeping hoping, okay? For all of us?" she asked.

"I will. I think…maybe she'll listen to me…now," he answered.

Tipping her head and considering him, she added, "Did she admit she has feelings for you? In all this?

Jacob looked away, as though he was afraid his face would give away all of his secrets. Finally, he looked back at Hayleigh and said, "Yes."

"Well," she took a deep breath, "Maybe that's one good thing…"

Jacob, appreciating her sentiment, simply nodded. Then, he went after Rosalyn. After searching the hallways, the elevators, and then the lobby, he started to panic. Exiting the hospital, he searched up and down the street for any sign of her. Finally, after several long minutes of searching, he found her in the alcove around the side of the building, created by the entrance for the emergency room. Rosalyn was picking up pieces of gravel from the driveway, and hurling them at the building opposite the hospital.

Jacob approached slowly, and said, "Rosalyn…"

She turned, and dropped her hands by her sides. She wrapped her arms around herself, and he could see the turmoil in her face.

"They don't know what's going to happen," he tried, "We still have to hope…"

Rosalyn's expression darkened, "Hope is starting to feel overrated."

"She could still wake up, Rosalyn. She's not gone," he tried again.

"I think we all need to take a large dose of reality," Rosalyn spat.

Jacob tried to put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. Then, she took off towards their hotel without another word. Having little other choice, he followed.

* * *

Over the next day and a half, Rosalyn became sullen, and continued to stay very quiet. She lay with Jacob in her bed, as she had for several days, but the mood was noticeably changed. Jacob felt as though he was lying with a shell of the person he'd come to know over the past week. She was listless, and would stare at the wall if left alone. He tried to get her up and out of the room, suggesting they do something on the last day they had off together. Rosalyn shrugged him off, though, and resorted to watching TV blankly.

Eventually, Jacob was forced to leave to do the show that night, in spite of how worried he was. When he returned later, she was still staring at the TV with a blanket wrapped around herself. He tried to talk to her, to get her to voice what she was thinking. Rosalyn, however, was silent. The most she would do was meet his eyes and let him kiss her cheek.

So Jacob stayed with her, silently, and let her grieve. He let her emotions run their course, and simply held her hand through it. He curled up next to her in the bed, so that she would know he was there. And the next morning, he made her eat some fruit with her coffee. It was all he could do. Jacob tried to get her through one day a time, and hope for a change in Rebekah's situation.

That Sunday afternoon, Rosalyn was due back at the theater for her first show in a week. It was an unintentional circumstance that her first shows after her vacation fell the day before they were to travel again. Jonathan would have let her take the extra day in addition to her week, but Rosalyn wasn't willing to use more of her leave. She seemed determined to get back on the stage, and Jacob didn't argue with her. He thought she might need the distraction.

At the theater that afternoon, the cast took Rosalyn's reappearance with guarded indifference. It was quite apparent to Jacob that they had been enjoying the week with Megan and Cassie as leads. The times he'd been there, they were lightheartedly joking with each other and chatting before and after the show. The other cast members appreciated Megan's sweet, easy nature, as it contrasted with Rosalyn's harsh personality. They were good people, he believed, and they genuinely cared about Rebekah. Still, they didn't know her like he and Rosalyn did. They didn't understand the history, and they didn't understand Rosalyn.

Trying to be encouraging, Jacob checked on Rosalyn as she went through makeup and prepared for the show. He smiled at her from the doorway and squeezed her hand when she headed toward the stage. He could tell as the show progressed, however, that she was terribly conflicted. Cassie's presence was just a reminder of their tragedy. Rosalyn had trouble meshing with Cassie onstage, not because Cassie wasn't as talented, but because she wasn't Rebekah.

By the end of the show, Rosalyn looked emotionally exhausted. She came off the stage without a word to Cassie, in spite of her glances in Rosalyn's direction. She was clearly looking for some sort of confirmation that she and Rosalyn had performed decently together. Rosalyn, however, would offer her no such indication. So Jacob gave Cassie an encouraging smile. Then he followed Rosalyn as she made her way through the stage-right wing and into the hallway behind the stage.

Catching her by the shoulder, he turned her toward him, and said, "Talk to me Rosalyn. I know this is hard for you. I know this was yours and Rebekah's show. And I know you think there's no hope, now. But please…just talk to me. Take it out on me. Don't take it out on Cassie."

Rosalyn turned toward him, and he could see the raw emotion behind her stoic façade. Jacob could tell that she was fighting to keep it in check, but he was afraid to let her. He was afraid she would explode. So he took her Elphie hat out of her hands and held onto her, waiting for her to say something.

After a moment, she bit her lip, and he could see her fighting tears. He could tell how badly she didn't want to cry again and raise more questions. However, Jacob also thought they would understand. The other cast members weren't that cold-hearted. Still fully costumed, he dropped his own hat on the floor beside hers, and pulled her in to him. He wrapped his arms around the rough, patchwork fabric of her dress and held her. And then, as the other cast members filtered down the hallway, Jacob pulled back and wiped two solitary tears from Rosalyn's face. As the others stopped to stare in wide-eyed surprise, he leaned in and kissed her softly. Then, in spite of the whispers and shocked glances, he held her for a long time. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, and gave no explanation to those around them. Their questions would have to wait, because she needed him. And that's all that mattered.

* * *

The following day, they were finally forced to pack up and leave St. Louis. It was one of the hardest transitions they would make, because leaving the city meant leaving Rebekah behind. They would no longer be just minutes from visiting her, should anything change. They wouldn't be able to stop by and check on Landon or Rebekah's parents during the day. They would be four hours away, no matter what happened. Jacob knew that it was killing Rosalyn. He could tell that she saw this as the end of something significant. For her, leaving her friend here meant accepting that she was gone. As she hesitantly told Jacob the morning they were to leave, it felt like they were moving on without Rebekah. It felt like they were accepting that she wasn't coming back.

However, the show had to go on, and they were contracted to go with it. Rosalyn had very little choice but to pack her things and make the trek to the airport with everyone else. They were heading to Memphis, this time. After the trauma of the accident, the tour had decided to fly them, in spite of the proximity of their destination to where they were now. As they gathered at the airport, most of them were relieved. It had been a hard month, and most of them were looking forward to a change in scenery. Rosalyn, however, was leaving her heart in St. Louis.

In an effort to make things easier for her, Jacob tried to help Rosalyn with her bags, and to navigate the airport. He ignored the constant stares of the other cast members as he tried to raise her spirits. He turned his back on their whispers as he tried to help her find her new room in the new city. Rosalyn, however, remained cold and indifferent. She was quieter now, he believed, than when they'd first met. This cold shoulder, however, was not accompanied by snide and scathing remarks. This was just a constant, steady silence that made him fear for Rosalyn's mental health. There was very little he could do, however, besides sit with her.

So he checked on her every morning of their first week in Memphis. He tried to get her to come out with him, if only to walk in the abundant sunshine for a little while. Mostly, she refused. She let him into her room occasionally, to sit beside her while she stared at the television. The fire from the week before, however, was gone. Rosalyn was a ghost of who she'd been, and Jacob had had no idea that such a subtle change in Rebekah's condition would send her spiraling into this depression.

That Friday night, after their first few shows, Jacob walked her back to her room yet again. Once they were inside, he carefully pushed the door shut and said, "Rosalyn, you can't go on like this. You can't just give up because she didn't wake up immediately. She was badly hurt. It just takes time…"

Rosalyn turned on him, and he saw emotion for the first time in days. It was anger, rather than affection, though, "Don't placate me, Jacob. We all know the best chance for her recovery was if she woke up when they ended the medical coma! We all know what a bad sign it is that she didn't respond. So don't try to tell me everything will be okay! Don't lie to me!"

Jacob sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat, "I'm not trying to lie to you, Rosalyn. I just don't want to see you like this. It's out of your hands…and your life can't just end. Even if…hers does."

Rosalyn head snapped up, and she narrowed her eyes at him, "How can you dismiss her that easily? How can you say that she's going to die?"

"I'm not!" Jacob argued, "I just don't think she would want you to give up on everything! She wanted you to be happy! And I don't want to see you like this."

Rosalyn stepped closer to him and shot back, "No…you just want me in bed with you! You're just upset because I'm not having sex with you! You want me over her, so I can be under _you_."

Jacob reeled at how hateful she sounded. His emotions spun through anger and hurt, and he said in return, "Rosalyn…you cannot possibly think that's true. I have done everything I can to be with you through this, without asking anything of you."

"Are you sure you aren't just biding your time until I 'get over it'?" she spat.

"Rosalyn, please don't do this," Jacob pleaded, "Don't push me away because you're hurting."

"Well, it's hard not to push you away! You're always there! You're here now, in my room, refusing to just…leave me alone!"

"I'm just trying to be there for you, Rosalyn."

"No…you just want something from me."

Jacob sighed and rubbed his eyes, saying, "Rosalyn, it was you who first asked me into your room. I would never have done anything you didn't want. And…"

Her eyes suddenly flashed with anger, "So…it's my fault, then? I came onto you, and now you're hooked?"

"Of course I'm hooked!" Jacob defended, "Of course I want to be with you! I love you."

"Well," Rosalyn's expression hardened, "Don't. I'm not very impressed with love, right now."

Jacob paused, and then very quietly tried again, "Please don't push me away."

Rosalyn crossed the room and opened the door, saying, "I want you to go. I really just want to be alone right now."

With a sigh, Jacob headed for the door. Before he left, however, he placed a hand on Rosalyn's arm and said, "I'll give you some space, but I will still love you. You don't have to go through this alone."

He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head so that his lips brushed her cheek. With one more meaningful look, Jacob turned and left the room.

* * *

In spite of himself, Jacob tried to give Rosalyn some space over the next several days. He watched her, much like he'd done for so many months before they'd slept together, but said very little. They went through the motions of the show, and it was Jacob's turn to be glad for the distraction. Performing helped the days pass, and it helped him stop worrying about Rosalyn for at least a few hours. When she was there, he at least knew where she was. And she was still putting her usual energy into her performance, which he took as a good sign.

At night, however, he started to notice that she was disappearing from the theater before he could catch her. She refused to say more than a few words at a time to him, and there was no answer at her door when he tried to find her. Even during the day, she was rarely anywhere to be found. Jacob continued to try to be patient, and to allow her to work through how she was feeling. He was worried, however, that she'd given up. He was afraid that Rosalyn deeply resented having let Rebekah into her life, only to have her so cruelly ripped away. He was afraid she was once again angry with God, or the universe, and that she regretted having opened herself up at all. And Jacob had no idea how to convince her that life was still worth living, that she still had a right to love and be loved.

One evening, about a week into their run in Memphis, Jacob lay in his room staring at the ceiling. It was late, and he was once again worrying himself into a panic over Rosalyn. It was his daily routine, it seemed, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up. He loved her, but he was hitting a wall with how to help her. He didn't know how to keep loving someone who didn't want him. Or who was pretending she didn't want him.

With a sigh, he sat up in bed and stared across the room blankly. Putting his face in his hands to rub his eyes, he said to himself, _God? We could most sincerely use some help right now. I don't even know if I have a right to ask this, but…we need Rebekah. I know not everything in life has a happy ending, but if there's any way that she could come out of this…it would make such a difference, for Rosalyn. If she could just see that good does happen…_

He opened his eyes then, and felt a little foolish for turning to prayer. It wasn't his typical response, but he felt like he wasn't doing so well on his own. He suddenly felt like having a higher power on his side might at least give him a measure of peace, or at least some sleep. There was no obvious response, however, and he sighed and flopped back down on the bed.

After a minute, his phone suddenly rang. Noting how late it was, he peered at the screen to see who was calling. It was an unknown number, but he picked up anyway.

On the other end of the line, a voice said, "Jacob?"

"Yes?" he answered.

"It's Julianne."

He sat up then, and said, "Hey…"

"Sorry to call you so randomly. I know we don't know each other that well, but…"

"It's okay," Jacob said, "How did you get this number?"

"From Hayleigh. We exchanged numbers before I left," Julianne explained.

"Oh yeah…that makes sense," Jacob added.

"So…how's my sister?" Julianne asked carefully.

Jacob took a deep breath, trying to decide how to answer that question. Finally, he said, "She's okay. She's doing the shows. She's just…she's really angry, Julianne."

There was a silence before she said, "I figured as much. I've been trying to call her. I figured something happened. Hayleigh said Rebekah didn't wake up?"

"Yeah," Jacob whispered, "And that's not a good sign."

"I'm so sorry for you guys…" Julianne said softly.

"It's a really hard, terrible thing," Jacob admitted, "And Rosalyn is the least able to handle it. It's killing Landon, I know, and Hayleigh. But they have a support system. They know how to grieve. Rosalyn…I thought she was doing well…I thought we…I mean…I don't know. I thought she was leaning on me, but now she doesn't want me around…"

"That sounds like her," Julianne mused.

"Yeah…"

"Will she talk to you at all?" Julianne asked.

"Not really. And I don't understand…and then again, I do. She opened up to me when she had hope that Rebekah would be okay. I think she was finally trying to trust me. And when Rebekah didn't wake up…I think felt like it was all in vain. Which really hurts, because…I thought I mattered…and now that sounds selfish…"

There was another silence, before she said, "You really care about her, don't you?"

"Yeah. I love her," Jacob answered.

"I'm glad she has you," Julianne stated.

Jacob sighed, "Maybe…if she would let me care about her."

"Look," Julianne offered, "This is what she does. She shuts down. Just…please don't let her. Keep trying. I'm only a few hours away. I'll try to come down if I can. I really want to be part of my sister's life."

"Well, then I'm glad she has you, too," Jacob responded, and then added, "Maybe you could call her? Keep trying to get her, and try to get her to let me help. I really do love her, Julianne. I'm a decent guy…I would never just sleep with her and walk away…"

"What?" Julianne's tone changed.

Having said the last part mostly to himself, Jacob suddenly realized what he'd said. He added quickly, "I mean…hypothetically."

There was a silence, until Julianne said, "I'm not my sister's keeper, Jacob. She's free to be with whomever she chooses."

Realizing he was caught, he said softly, "I know…I'm just not sure what she wants everyone to...know."

"I thought you said you two weren't a couple?"

"We weren't. Until a couple weeks ago. Then, she asked me…"

"I get it," Julianne spared him having to explain, "So…do you think she regrets it? Do you think she was just emotional?"

"I don't know…maybe," Jacob admitted painfully, "But I love her anyway. And that might make me the stupidest guy ever."

"At least your heart's in the right place," Julianne said, "At least she has someone who cares."

Jacob didn't answer, because he was wounded by the idea that he might have been an emotional mistake for Rosalyn.

Julianne spoke up again, "I'll talk to Hayleigh. Maybe we can get away and come down there to see her. She has a little more time off, and my exams are over. I'll let you know."

"That might help," Jacob whispered, "Thanks."

"Hey, I love my sister."

"I know," Jacob said, and then told her goodbye. He hung up the phone and dropped back onto the bed to futilely try at sleep.

* * *

Over the next several days, Jacob tried to give Rosalyn some more space. He stepped back and focused on the shows, hoping she might just need some perspective. It was impossible for him to imagine that their connection had been just an emotional reaction, though. He refused to believe that it had been a mistake. He convinced himself that she just needed time, and he prayed for Rebekah's recovery. In the quiet moments, he was suddenly calling on God in ways he hadn't bothered to before.

When a few days had passed without incident, Jacob thought Rosalyn might have had a chance to find some perspective as well. So on Sunday night, two weeks after they'd arrived in Memphis, Jacob tried to find her after the show. He thought he might try again to offer to buy her coffee, and to talk.

He caught her just as she was leaving her dressing room, and called to her, "Rosalyn!"

She turned, and he noticed how she was dressed. She was poured into a tiny, black dress that spilled cleavage over the plunging neckline. Her heels were just high enough to make her legs look impossibly long. Her hair was clipped up so that the back portion tumbled down her back, and her makeup was carefully done to accent her wide eyes and full lips.

"Are you going out?" Jacob stuttered.

"Yeah," she threw back.

"But…" he tried to find words, but he was absolutely dumbfounded.

"Is that a problem?" she snapped.

"I thought you were done with that," he said tightly.

She rolled her eyes, "It's just dancing, Jacob. I thought you wanted me to be happy?"

Unable to argue with that, he said nothing more. He considered following her, or offering to come with her. However, the idea of watching her party with strangers in a random club gave him a headache. He was trying to help her, trying to support her, but he was tired and frustrated. So Jacob retreated to the sanctuary of his room and tried to watch TV. He stayed up staring at the screen, hoping to calm his maelstrom of thoughts and get some sleep. When the late night infomercials came on, he switched off the television and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts ran rampant as he tried to make sense of what was happening in his life.

Jacob was caught in a relationship with a woman who was too wounded and afraid to confront what she really wanted. He was in love with someone who didn't know how to love him in return. Now, he'd slept with her and further complicated the situation. He was so emotionally nonobjective that he had no idea what to do, and he started to question every choice he'd made. Laying in the dark, he started to beat himself up for letting her convince him to make love to her. He berated himself for not being stronger, for not waiting until they knew more about Rebekah. And then he tried to get angry with Rosalyn for ignoring him, for not understanding that she couldn't carry all her troubles alone.

Eventually, Jacob got up and paced a little. It was now the wee hours of the morning, and he was no closer to sleep than he'd been hours earlier. He wondered whether Rosalyn had come back yet, and hoped she was okay. Then, after another few minutes, he decided to see if she was in her room. He had to talk to her, if he was ever to sleep. He had to know if she just needed time, or if their relationship had been a mistake, for her. He needed to know if it was simply over.

He pulled open the door and shuffled down the hall in some old sweatpants and a t-shirt. Taking the elevator down one floor, he made his way to her room. Tentatively, he knocked on the door. After a few minutes, there was still no answer. He tried again, but got no response. Assuming she was still out, Jacob crossed the hall and sat down against the opposite wall. He was awake anyway, so he decided to wait for her.

As the time ticked silently by, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was lost in another chaotic pattern of thinking when he heard the click of a door latch. His eyes snapped opened, and he saw Rosalyn's door open. She wasn't returning home, though. Someone was leaving. He felt a stab of shock in his chest as Rosalyn emerged, dressed only in her silk bathrobe and pushing a middle-aged man out of her room. The man reached for her, and she pushed him away. With out so much as a goodbye, she gave him a little push in the direction of the elevator. As the man disappeared down the hallway, Rosalyn stood there for a moment, clutching her robe around herself and staring after her late-night visitor.

Jacob stood then, realizing what he was seeing. Catching the movement out of the corner of her eye, Rosalyn turned and saw him. Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth. However, she couldn't seem to find any words.

Jacob looked at her, and he felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. He felt a mixture of nausea and flooding anger. He wanted to scream at her for how much this hurt him. He wanted to know how she could have wanted this random, one-night stand over him. He wanted to demand to know why she couldn't have just told him it was over, rather than lie to him and do this behind his back. And yet, he still loved her. The feelings were too strong to just be wiped away. So, as angry as he was, he hurt. Standing there, he felt as though she'd slapped and mocked him. He felt inadequate and used.

Rosalyn took a step toward him, but he shook his head.

In a low, throaty voice, he simply said, "No."

Then, he turned and walked away.


	26. Chapter 26: The Rose's Thorn

**Chapter 26: The Rose's Thorn**

Jacob kept himself calm until he was inside his room again, with the door safely shut and latched. Then, he allowed his feelings to overwhelm him. He dropped onto the couch and put his head in his hands, as a wave of anger and gut-wrenching sadness washed over him. He felt tears burning at the back of his eyes, but he fought them back. As much as he hurt, he was also angry. He didn't want to allow her to make him cry. He didn't want to believe she could reduce him to that.

Jacob tried telling himself over and over again that it had been a fling. He reminded himself that they'd barely had a week together, and that they'd made no promises to one another. He tried to convince himself that he could move on, now. He focused on the anger, telling himself that she wasn't capable of loving him. He'd been a fool to think she could change. He told himself that, to her, he was just another lover. He was just someone else she had used.

Deep down, though, Jacob couldn't get past the truth. What they had shared had been significant. However short their affair might have been, they were both changed, because of it. And Rosalyn was choosing to throw it away. For whatever reason, she'd decided he wasn't worth the effort. She was turning toward what was easy, rather than what might save her. Jacob knew what she'd done was about her, more than him. He knew she hadn't hurt him intentionally. He was simply a casualty of an addiction she could not break. Still, it hurt. He hurt. Horribly.

So Jacob sat up in his room until dawn began to break, exhausted, but unable to sleep. He stared out the window as the sky began to turn from inky black to cerulean, streaked with hazy purple. Het let his mind run rampant, trying not to focus on how good things had almost been. He tried to put away the thoughts of how he'd hoped they could keep performing together. He tried to forget how he'd imagined marrying her in some exotic way that would suite her. Jacob tried to block out the crisp, warm memories of her soft hair caressing his bare skin. He tried to forget the feeling of her breath on him, as they'd experienced things with one another that they hadn't with anyone else. He tried to forget how she'd smiled, a true, genuine smile, so many times that week, and how he hadn't seen it since Rebekah had failed to awaken.

When the sun finally clamored over the horizon and bathed the clouds in warm, rich color, Jacob still sat there. He was tired, hurting, and empty. He felt purposeless and numb. He sat there, wondering if he could eventually just fade away to nothing if he refused to move.

However, a knock on the door suddenly jolted him out of his despondent reverie. Rubbing his eyes and knowing he looked like absolute hell, Jacob stood and headed for the door. Then, he wondered if it might be Rosalyn. He wondered if she might be feeling terribly regretful, and wanted to talk. He stood there for a minute, trying to decide if he wanted to face her. Then, he remembered how quickly they would be facing each other in the show, anyway. So he opened the door. On the other side stood Hayleigh and Julianne. Jacob reeled for a moment, and then tried to collect himself.

"What are you doing here?" he managed to stutter.

"I should be asking you!" Hayleigh nearly jumped at him, "We've both been calling you all night!"

"What?" Jacob was too tired to follow properly.

Hayleigh held up her phone, "I've been calling you since midnight! And Rosalyn, too! What in the name of—"

"Whoa…calm down," Julianne interjected.

"I can't calm down!" Hayleigh continued to sputter, "I just drove _four hours_, and…"

"It's okay, Hayleigh. We're here now. It was a rough night…it's been an emotional few hours," Julianne tried to reason.

"Wait," Jacob held up his hand, finally clearing his thoughts, "What happened?"

Julianne opened her mouth, but Hayleigh stopped her with, "No. First…where's Rosalyn?"

Jacob was suddenly irritated, "You expected to find her in _my_ room?"

He watched as Julianne looked away uncertainly, and Hayleigh just looked confused.

_So I guess Julianne didn't tell her, _he realized.

He could thank her later, he decided. Running a hand through his hair, Jacob sighed, saying, "She's in her room, I guess."

"Where is it?" Hayleigh demanded.

"She's…wait…how did you find me?" Jacob asked.

Annoyed, Hayleigh said, "We asked what floor you were all on. And we knocked on everyone's door. FYI…some of your other cast members are going to be mad at you. Now where is she?"

Jacob shook his head, finding Hayleigh a bit much to take at six in the morning when he'd had no sleep. Rubbing his eyes again, he stuck his feet in his shoes and stepped out into the hall. Letting the door close behind him, he led the way down the hallway to the elevator. They were all very quiet as they rode down one floor, and then walked to Rosalyn's door. Hayleigh knocked, and Jacob had no idea what to expect. He had a feeling, though, that this was not going to be fun.

When Rosalyn opened the door, Jacob almost felt badly for her. She was now dressed in an old t-shirt and faded sweatpants. Her hair was haphazardly twisted behind her head, and her eyes were tired. It did not look, however, like she'd been asleep. She looked at the people standing outside her door, and Jacob could see her confusion.

"What's going on?" Rosalyn asked softly.

"Can we come in?" Hayleigh asked quickly.

Rosalyn looked at each of them, her gaze landing on Jacob. She regarded him with guarded uncertainty. Finally, she opened the door and held it open. Hayleigh marched inside, followed by Julianne and Jacob. Rosalyn dropped into a chair, and Julianne looked at Jacob with questions in her eyes.

Hayleigh paced, saying, "How is it that neither of you can answer your phone? All night? We've been calling since _midnight_!"

Rosalyn reached over and picked up her phone. She pressed a few buttons and said, "I guess I turned it off…"

Hayleigh's eyes landed on Jacob, and he offered, "I left it on vibrate…and ignored it…"

"Did you not think that someone might need to talk to you?" Hayleigh squeaked.

"You drove all the way out here to talk to me? Seriously?" Rosalyn asked flatly.

"Well, she's been calling me," Hayleigh indicated Julianne, "to check on you, and I've been calling Jacob…and you're both MIA…so I picked her up on the way and drove down here," Hayleigh explained.

Jacob defended, "People don't usually need to talk to me at three in the morning. And even if you called, I was busy at three this morning. And I'm pretty sure Rosalyn was busy as well…"

He looked pointedly at Rosalyn. He was surprised at his own callousness, but he was hurt, and tired. His emotions were not well under control at this point.

Rosalyn's eyes flashed, and she snapped back, "What I was doing this morning was none of your damn business!"

"Really? It isn't?" Jacob stepped towards her, "So you sleep with me, for a week, and then just decide you're done with me! But you don't tell me! And that's supposed to be okay? That's just the way you usually treat people?"

"I never asked for anything else from you, Jacob! I never committed to you!" she stood, screaming now.

"Well…that's a convenient out, isn't it?"

"Are you saying I'm lying?"

"No," Jacob raged, "I'm saying you used me, and made sure to leave yourself a way to get out!"

"I can't use someone who's _willing_!" Rosalyn spat.

"Yes, you can," Jacob said quietly.

"Look," Rosalyn growled, "We had a good week. But like everything else in life, it had to end."

"Why?" Jacob shot back, "And why couldn't you have had the decency to tell me? Why did I have to come down here and find you with some guy?"

Rosalyn looked away for a moment, and Hayleigh interjected, "What is going on here? You two were sleeping together?"

Rosalyn continued to look away, and Jacob nodded.

"When?" Hayleigh demanded.

"In St. Louis," Jacob answered softly.

Hayleigh paced for a minute, dumbfounded. Finally, she said, "How could either one of you have _possibly_ thought that was a good idea?"

"Because it was," Jacob stated, trying to meet Rosalyn's eyes, "And you said yourself it was good that Rosalyn was turning to me."

"There's a big difference between turning to you, and sleeping with you!" Hayleigh argued.

"Okay," Rosalyn interjected, "As great as it is to have the two of you talking about me like I'm not here, is there a reason you drove four hours? Other than to find out why my phone was off?"

There was silence then, as they all tried to decide how to proceed. Finally, Julianne said softly, "It's about Rebekah."

Rosalyn's expression changed then. She went ashen, and her face lost the anger. She stepped backward and dropped onto the edge of her bed. Very quietly, she asked, "What happened? Is she…gone?"

Hayleigh started to say something, but Julianne stopped her. She stepped forward and crossed to sit beside her sister. Very carefully, Julianne said, "Rosalyn…what Jacob said…about what happened between the two of you. Is that all true?"

Rosalyn shrugged, and said, "I guess."

There was a pause, before Julianne asked, "Why would you walk away from him? Why would you want…someone else? He loves you."

"So?" Rosalyn snapped, "It can't last! It never lasts! I might as well walk away before he does!"

"I don't think he would do that, Rosalyn," Julianne tried.

Rosalyn rolled her eyes and wrung her hands together, "Whatever, Julianne. You know nothing! Now, just tell me about Rebekah. Get it over with."

"I know that Jacob has proven over and over again that he is a good man."

Rosalyn rubbed her eyes, and Jacob could see that she was starting to tremble again, "Maybe…for now! But it won't last! It doesn't last, Julianne! It's just the truth! Everyone changes! Everyone lets you down, hurts you, manipulates you…or dies! That's life, Julianne! That _people_!"

Julianne tried to take her sister's hands, "Maybe not this time…"

Rosalyn shook her off, "Don't touch me! Don't lie to me and tell me life is anything other than hurt and disappointment! I tried to hope! And life went to hell anyway! So leave me alone!"

Julianne was very still, her face a pool of sadness and sympathy. She started to speak, but Hayleigh cut her off. She crossed the room and knelt in front of Rosalyn. Very carefully, she said, "You're right."

Rosalyn calmed just a bit, and raised her head to look at Hayleigh with surprise.

"You're right," Hayleigh continued, "Life sucks. People let you down and disappoint you. People can be cruel and selfish, and they make wrong choices. Sometimes, the ones we love the most hurt us terribly. Life can suck everything out of us. Sometimes, we're only left with scars. Often, there is no restitution or apology. Many times, there's no second chance. And far too often, people die. The ones we love leave us to face things alone."

Rosalyn sat very still, and twisted her hands together. She still trembled a little, and she wouldn't meet Hayleigh's eyes. Jacob held his breath, afraid of what would come next. He was certain that Rebekah was gone, certain that Rosalyn was about to be devastated. And in spite of himself, he hurt for her.

Hayleigh very gently laid her hands on Rosalyn's, and said, "But not this time."

Rosalyn finally looked up, her eyes wide.

"She's not gone, Rosalyn," Hayleigh continued, "She's awake. She knows me. She knows her mother. And she said your name."

There was a very still moment, when no one spoke. Then, Rosalyn put her hands on her face, and Jacob could see the tears in her eyes.

"_This_ is why we love," Hayleigh went on, "This is why we trust and hope, and why we risk disappointment and hurt. Because for all of that is hard in life, there is also good. There is joy. And those are the sweetest moments. Rosalyn, you can't do anything about the bad. But I promise you, the good is worth it. Don't throw out the joy in your life because you're afraid of the pain."

Two solitary tears ran down Rosalyn's face as she continued to listen.

"If you had never known Rebekah, you would never have had to suffer through this. You would never have had to hurt. But you would also never have known this joy. Just…think about that," Hayleigh finished.

Rosalyn sat there, letting silent tears fall, and Jacob was astounded at Hayleigh's wisdom. He was relieved, joyful, and uncertain. He was glad for Rebekah, as his friend, and for her family. He was relieved and happy that she would recover. Still, as he watched Julianne stroke her sister's hair, he wondered about his place. He wondered about Rosalyn's future, and if he would be a part of it. He considered whether he wanted a part. Then, too tired to be rational, he focused instead on the news at hand. He and Rosalyn would face each other soon enough.

* * *

A short time later, they all piled into Hayleigh's car to make the trip back to the hospital in St. Louis. Both Rosalyn and Jacob wanted to see their friend, and they were now operating on some sort of unspoken truce. Neither spoke to the other, and they spent most of the car ride asleep on opposite sides of the backseat. It was would be easier, it seemed, to deal with their problems once they'd seen Rebekah. Perhaps then, they would both have some perspective.

They all arrived at the hospital just before lunch, and decided to put off eating until later. None of them had much appetite, considering all that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours. So they parked a few blocks away and made their way to the hospital. Once inside and on the ICU floor, they made the familiar trek to the waiting room. This time, however, they were greeted by the sound of laughter.

Rebekah's mother was talking animatedly on her phone when they rounded the corner. She gave them all a smile, and continued to talk to whichever one of her relatives was on the phone. Jack Rawlings sat beside her, shaking his head. He looked up at the new arrivals and said, "She hasn't stopped calling people since last night."

Hayleigh laughed, and the others smiled.

"Can we see her," Hayleigh asked eagerly.

"In about ten minutes," Jack answered.

"Where's Landon," Jacob asked curiously.

Jack smiled, "He is actually sleeping. In a bed. For the first time in more than a month. After he talked to Rebekah last night, we convinced him to go back to the room. I'm trying not to wake him up."

Jacob nodded, glad to hear it, "How is Rebekah doing?" he asked.

"Good," Jack explained, "considering everything. She recognizes us, which is the best of signs. She still can't move much, but they believe that will just take time. She doesn't have an injury that would paralyze her, and she has sensation. It seems she'll have to work hard in therapy to walk again. She should recover, though, and that's what matters."

Jacob nodded again, and the others agreed.

They chatted for a few minutes, until Gayle hung up the phone and looked around. She considered the new visitors, and looked from Rosalyn to Julianne.

"Well," Gayle said, "there's two of you."

Julianne smiled, "Yeah…sisters. I'm Julianne," she offered her hand to Gayle.

Rebekah's mother shook her hand, and looked at Rosalyn. As usual, she was surveying the scene with a guarded expression. With her arms crossed over her chest, Rosalyn looked at Gayle and tried to smile.

After another minute, one of the nurses appeared in the doorway. She looked around the room with a question on her face. Rebekah's mother spoke up, saying, "Can these four go back? That will be all, I promise. No one else should be by today."

The nurse considered, and then said, "All right. Fifteen minutes, and that is all," she emphasized.

They all nodded, and the nurse led Hayleigh, Jacob, Rosalyn and Julianne down the hallway to Rebekah's room. Once inside, the nurse whispered carefully in Rebekah's ear. For a moment, she didn't respond. For that fleeting few seconds, she looked as comatose as she'd been for weeks. Jacob noticed, however, that the tube was gone from her mouth. Then, her eyes fluttered open.

Rebekah did not move, as was expected, but she scanned the room. Beneath the tubes and wires and bandages, her eyes were bright. When her gaze fell on Rosalyn and Julianne, she looked back and forth between them.

Rosalyn spoke up, saying, "This is my sister, Julianne."

Rebekah smiled a little, and said very softly, "Rebekah."

They all laughed, because she had thought it necessary to introduce herself, even in her current situation. Rebekah said very little during those few minutes, but they all took turns holding her hand and telling her they hoped she would recover quickly. When it was Rosalyn's turn, she couldn't seem to find any words. She just took Rebekah's hand and held it tightly. Then, in a gesture that was entirely out of character, she leaned forward and kissed Rebekah on the forehead. The others watched as understanding passed between them.

The nurse sent them away then, and they all regretfully made their way back to the waiting room. On the way, Hayleigh hung back and fell in step with Rosalyn. Without looking at her, Hayleigh said, "Miracles happen, Rosalyn. Not often, but they happen. And these are the moments you live for."

She walked away then, leaving Rosalyn with her thoughts.

* * *

The following morning, Jacob and Rosalyn rented a car and made the drive back to Memphis. They were forced to ride together, for the sake of cost, and the fact that they had a show that night. It was, Jacob decided, one of the quietest car rides he'd ever taken. Several times, he considered saying something, but he wasn't sure that he was ready to talk. He didn't know that he was ready to forgive and forget, even if that's what he wanted. He wasn't ready for excuses or angry shouting. He needed time. So he kept quiet, and just made sure that Rosalyn got to the hotel safely.

The next week progressed in much the same way. The two of them stayed clear of each other, not arguing, but not speaking, either. They went through the motions of the show, playing their roles and then walking away from each other after curtain call. They didn't argue or snap at each other. Neither one cried or sulked. They simply stopped communicating, and Cassie took notice.

After the show that Friday night, she stopped Jacob in the hallway as they were leaving. She studied him for a minute, and then said, "I'm glad to hear that Rebekah is doing well…"

Jacob nodded, and smiled.

Cassie hesitated, and then asked, "Something happened with you and Rosalyn, didn't it? Something other than worrying about Rebekah?"

Jacob ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could make a quick escape.

Cassie looked up at him, her doe-eyed face looking so much like Galinda, "I'm not looking for gossip, Jacob. Most of us…we really want to be your friend. And…I kind thought you and I were…friends…"

Jacob sighed. He considered his options, and then decided there wasn't much to be gained in lying. So he said, "Yes. Something was going on. And now it's not."

Cassie raised an eyebrow, "What happened?"

"It just…didn't work out," Jacob hedged.

"But…you were so crazy about her…"

"Maybe…" Jacob mumbled.

"I guess…none of us really imagined Rosalyn was capable of feelings. But after that one show…we saw you kiss, and she seemed almost…normal," Cassie explained.

Jacob sighed again, and considered his words. Eventually, he said, "I know most of you think she's crazy. I know she's treated you all terribly and you were glad to have Megan. There's a lot about her even I don't understand, Cassie. But she's a person. She's a person who's been through a lot. I don't know if she and I will ever…work out. But she has a lot to give. Give her a chance. Call her out on her attitude and don't back down. Fight sarcasm with sarcasm. She'll talk to you, in her own way. I think she could be your friend, Cassie."

Cassie looked at him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Jacob gave her a tiny smile, and walked away before she could ask any more questions.

* * *

As their time in Memphis passed, Rosalyn was not any more eager than Jacob to confront what had happened between them. She sensed his anger, and she understood how deeply she'd wounded him. Still, she wasn't ready to apologize. Not because she didn't realize how she'd been wrong. She just wasn't ready for his reaction. Rosalyn had no idea if she wanted to be forgiven, or to just move on with her life as it was. She still couldn't say if she was capable of loving him the way he deserved. She didn't know if she could commit to him. She was at the point where she didn't know if she wanted to change.

So Rosalyn avoided him. She steered clear of his dressing room and hotel room. She did the shows, but kept her distance, emotionally. She had no idea how long this could on, or if Jacob would at some point demand more answers. She had no idea if they could make it through the end of the tour and simply go their separate ways, or if some sort of explosion was inevitable. She just knew that, for the moment, she needed her space. She needed time, and Jacob seemed more than willing to grant her that.

Toward the end of their stay in Memphis, Rosalyn got a call from Julianne. She wanted to meet Rosalyn for lunch, and asked if she could drive down the following morning. Julianne's school, where she was staying on to finish a summer workshop to supplement her degree in theater education, was just a couple hours away. Rosalyn, who was realized how much she'd missed her sister, agreed.

They met on a Friday, just a few days before the tour would leave for Little Rock, at a café in Memphis. Julianne greeted her sister with a hug, and Rosalyn did not pull away.

"Thanks for driving down," Rosalyn offered.

"Well, I figured, you have no car…" Julianne chuckled.

"Yeah…the difficulties of touring," Rosalyn quipped.

They looked over the menu then, and ordered sandwiches and soda. After their food came, they ate leisurely, chatting. Then, Julianne finally asked the inevitable question, "So…how are things with Jacob?"

Rosalyn bristled, and didn't answer right away. After a moment, she said, "They are…not. We're just…not."

"Because of him? Or because of you?" Julianne asked carefully.

"Both. We both need some space."

"Rosalyn," Julianne said softly, "Please don't throw away that relationship. You deserve someone like him. He's a good man…I'd kill to find someone like him."

"Then maybe you should date him," Rosalyn snapped.

"Don't do that. You can't scare me off with your sarcasm."

Rosalyn considered her sister, and had to concede that that much was true, "Is this the reason you came down here?" she asked.

"No," Julianne shook her head, "I came to spend time with my sister. Who I can tell is miserable and lonely."

Rosalyn sipped her drink, "Maybe. But I miss Rebekah. And you. Not Jacob."

Julianne very carefully put down her napkin and studied her sister. Rosalyn could see herself, six years younger, in her face. She could see herself without the bitterness and fear. She saw a softer version of herself, and once again fought back the feeling that Julianne was a better daughter, a better woman, a better sister, even a better person, than she would ever be.

"Rosalyn," Julianne started, "tell me something. What attracts you to Jacob?"

Rosalyn looked taken aback, but she didn't argue. She couldn't very well argue that there was no attraction, after all. Julianne knew too much. So she thought for some time, and then said, "He looks into my eyes," she finally said.

Julianne looked touched by the sweet, honesty in the statement. After a moment, she asked, "Are you willing to give up the other guys? For him?"

"I don't know," Rosalyn said quietly.

"Why?" Julianne asked.

Rosalyn took a deep breath, "You're my sister, Julianne, but there's a lot you don't know about me. There's a lot I hoped you'd never have to know. Some of it…I've told you. But…there's been a lot of men, Julie. A lot. Hundreds."

Julianne sat there, somewhere between stunned and hardly surprised.

"It's an addiction. I'm addicted to the power of it…" Rosalyn admitted.

There was quiet moment, before Julianne said, "Admission is the first step…"

"Maybe…"

Julianne reached across the table and took her sister's hand. Then, she said, "Look at me, Rosalyn. You're my sister, and I love you. I have always adored you. Nothing you ever do will change that. You're a part of me. I mean…most people think we're twins. I want you to be happy…and Jacob makes you happy. So you need to do whatever it takes to be with him. And I don't mean convince him. I mean…get _yourself _right. Finally get out all this crap you have bottled up…and let it go. Break the addiction. Let go of the past. And I know that's not easy, but…it's time."

Rosalyn stared wordlessly back at her sister, and held onto her hand. She started to say something. She tried to find an argument, but none would come. She was empty, and out of excuses. So she at there, struggling.

* * *

In the next week, the tour packed up again and made the short drive to Little Rock, Arkansas. It was an easy transition, and an uneventful drive. For Jacob, it also represented very little change. Rosalyn continued to be silent, and he continued to let her. He still needed time. He needed to watch and see if she could make a change for herself, on her own. He needed to know that she could give up the men for herself, and not for him. Jacob knew that he would forgive her, if she turned those wide, dark eyes on him. He knew he was weak. He also knew that his forgiveness was not what she really needed. She needed to break an addiction, and she needed to forgive herself.

Jacob also wanted to sort out his own feelings. He wanted to make sure that he hadn't just been infatuated, after all. He wanted to know if he could still commit to her, knowing she was capable of hurting him so badly. He wanted to find out if he was strong enough to help her, if he was really strong enough to love her.

So he kept his distance, and the weeks passed. The weather turned warmer and the cast was able to lounge by the pool during their off time. They enjoyed the Midwestern sunshine, and took advantage of the cloudless, summer days. They made treks to the local park and played flag football, or just hung out in the nice weather. Cassie even got Rosalyn talking, however hesitantly, and convinced her to come to lunch. To Jacob, things seemed better, and he started to find some optimism again. Then, when they were forced to leave for Tulsa, Rosalyn left.

As quickly and mysteriously as she'd come into his life, she disappeared. She walked away from the tour, and neither Tom nor Jonathan would disclose why. They both would only state that she'd been amicably released from her contract. She was simply gone. The rest of the cast, save for Cassie, seemed nonplussed. Jacob, however, was dumbfounded and worried. He tried calling her, and got no answer. He called her sister, and got no answer. He called Hayleigh, and she claimed to know nothing. He even called Landon, who was glad to hear from him, but had no answers.

Thoroughly confused, and much more heartbroken than he'd expected, Jacob was at a loss. He moved through life in a fog, trying to keep up his performances. Yet inside, he was baffled and lonely. And no matter how he racked his brain, second-guessed himself, and tried to contact her, she was gone. Rosalyn was gone and, for whatever her reasons, she didn't want to be found.


	27. Chapter 27: Distance

**Finally, here's more. Sorry about the wait. Life has gotten hectic. I'm writing and directing a musical, had a dance recital, and I'm house managing a lot at work. Chaos. On a fun note, I'm going to Wicked again on June 13th...and I get to go to the Witches' Night Off on June 7th. It's a cabaret, benefit show, and I got the tickets that come with admission to an after-party with the cast. I'm so flippin excited.**

**And because it's on my mind...I do not like blueberry yogurt. Blueberries in yogurt are gross.**

**Enjoy.**

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* * *

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**Chapter 27: Distance**

For the next two months, Jacob moved through life in a fog. He couldn't say if he was sad or lonely, or just frustrated. All he knew for sure is that his world felt as though it had faded. He felt as though the color and feeling had muted, and he was just moving through, without feeling anything.

Without Rosalyn, his life was certainly less complicated. The shows went smoothly and the cast worked well together. After Rosalyn left, Megan had remained the standby, which, oddly enough, seemed not to bother her. They'd taken on a fiery, young actress named Lyric as their new Elphaba. She was funny, spirited, and instantly bonded with the other cast members. She kept Jacob on his toes, as she constantly pushed the boundaries of what she could do onstage. She and Cassie quickly fell into step as partners, and he could tell that Cassie was relieved to have someone who wanted to work with her. And it was hard for Jacob to blame her. He knew Rosalyn had made all their lives difficult, and that she'd refused to open herself up to Cassie. Jacob knew that the new casting was working well, and that, although they were different, Lyric and Cassie were both very talented. Still, neither one of them was Rosalyn.

It was the ultimate contradiction of feeling. Jacob couldn't say that he wanted Rosalyn to return. A part of him was relieved to be free from the gut-wrenching, constant stress of it all. However, another part of him couldn't stop thinking of her. To Jacob, Rosalyn was like a great, powerful storm that had swept over his life. The nine months he'd traveled with her had been a frightening, violent, uncontrolled experienced that had both terrified and enthralled him. Rosalyn had barreled through his life and ripped him apart, and in one way, he was devastated. However, like a storm prunes the trees of dead limbs and washes away the dust and grime, Jacob was also seeing things with new clarity. He felt like he knew himself a little better, and he was less afraid of what life might bring him. He was more decisive, and content with who he was, and who he was not.

So he went through the motions of the shows and tried to give it his best. He went out with the rest of the cast and generally had a good time. The weeks passed, and he tried to be grateful for the continued opportunity to be part of such a wildly successful show. Jacob tried to find peace in the situation, and plan for his future. Somehow, though, he felt stuck. In spite of himself, he wanted some sort of closure. He wanted to know if Rosalyn truly felt their time together had been a mistake. He wanted to hear it from her, and to tell her how she'd affected him. He wanted her to know that he wasn't sorry, even if he was heartbroken. Jacob just wanted to understand, so he could walk away, and heal.

He called Julianne several times, but she would only tell him that Rosalyn was safe. He called Hayleigh, who said much the same thing. He tried to get them to share anything they might know, such as why she would leave the show she loved. He asked for any information about how she felt about him. However, neither Julianne nor Hayleigh would tell him anything. Frustrated, Jacob decided that they either did not know, or they'd promised to keep Rosalyn's secrets.

So he finished the last three stops on his tour contract, and decided to go home. He said his goodbyes, and packed his things for the trek back to southern Ohio at the beginning of October. On his way, however, he decided to visit Rebekah. Through Hayleigh, he'd learned that she was staying at a rehabilitation facility just outside of Atlanta. The location wasn't exactly on his way home, since his last tour stop had been in Dallas. He made the detour, though, because he genuinely cared about Rebekah. He hadn't seen her since she woken up in St. Louis and, as his friend, he missed her.

The day Jacob flew into Atlanta, Landon picked him up from the airport. Still hauling all of his stuff from the tour, he was glad Landon's SUV had a large, cargo area. They stowed his stuff in the back, and made the drive to the rehabilitation center. On the way over, Landon filled him in.

"It's absolutely amazing, Jacob. She's like…it never happened, mentally. This same person that they thought would end up brain dead…she's perfect. She's just had to work really hard to be able to move, and then walk. Somehow, that part of her brain was what was most damaged. And she had the pelvic fracture to heal from. So she's had to re-teach herself a lot, physically. She's amazing, though, the way she's worked…"

Jacob smiled at the obvious adoration in Landon's voice.

Hesitating for a moment, Landon added, "And I have a ring for her. I think she knows…but she won't say. I'm going to give it to her as soon as she leaves this rehab place. I'm going to take her out, the way she deserves, and propose to her."

Jacob nodded, saying, "She's lucky to have you."

"No," Landon corrected, "I'm lucky to have her."

Jacob couldn't argue with that.

There was a quiet moment, then, until Landon added, "You know…I've been rambling on, and I've been kind of rude, I guess. I really wasn't considerate…of your feelings…"

"What do you mean?" Jacob asked, confused.

"I mean…the whole situation with Rosalyn…" Landon clarified.

"Oh," Jacob sighed, "Don't worry about it. You have a right to be happy. Rebekah's alive and getting well, and that's incredible. Don't let my issues ruin it."

"Still, I know that was rough. Hayleigh told me…"

"Yeah, well…I guess I should have known. I should have realized where she was…emotionally…" Jacob mused.

"Maybe. But, still, what she did was pretty terrible," Landon replied.

"Yeah…I'm not going to pretend I'm not hurt, and angry…"

There was another long, thick silence.

"I don't know where she is, either," Landon finally said, "In case you were wondering…"

Jacob tried to smile, "I figured as much."

Landon nodded then, and changed the subject. Jacob was grateful, and they chatted easily for the rest of the trip. When they arrived at the center, Landon led the way into the building and up the elevator to Rebekah's room. The place was bright and airy, and the rooms were spacious and decorated by each patient or their family. It wasn't quite the institution Jacob expected, and he was glad Rebekah had landed somewhere so nice. He followed Landon into Rebekah's room and looked around.

Her walls were covered with pictures of her as a performer, starting with photos of her as a child, in tutus for dance recitals. Her headshots and promotional pictures were pinned next to candid dressing room shots of her and her cast mates. In the middle of them all, Jacob noticed the one picture of Rebekah and Rosalyn, together. Someone had caught them in Rosalyn's dressing room, fully dressed for the show. In the photo, Rosalyn was checking her makeup, studying her reflection with intense focus. Rebekah was watching her with a slight, amused smile. Jacob could appreciate the photo in way most others couldn't. It captured the essence of these two unlikely friends, both in the irony of the characters they played, and in the personality revealed in the moment. They were light and dark, sunshine and storm clouds, the brilliant rainbow and the layered, complicated earth.

He was still staring at the picture when Rebekah spoke up, "My mother did that. She got a little carried away with all the pictures…"

Jacob turned, and looked at her. In spite of what he'd been told, he was still surprised at the sight of her. She was sitting up on the small sofa in her room, with her long, corkscrew curls falling around her face. Rebekah had her long legs tucked underneath her, and she held a book that she'd been reading. She was thinner than she'd ever been, but he assumed that was to be expected. When he looked in her eyes, Jacob understood what Landon had meant on the driver over. She was Rebekah. Undeniably. She smiled, and Landon crossed to kiss her on the forehead.

Tipping her face upward toward Landon, Rebekah kept her eyes on Jacob. Still smiling, she said, "I've missed you, Jacob."

He smiled in return, and said, "I've missed you, too. The show just wasn't the same without you."

"I've heard Cassie has done wonderfully," Rebekah countered.

Jacob shrugged, "I guess she's just not you."

"That's sweet of you," Rebekah chuckled.

She dropped her book and started to rise from the sofa. Landon offered his arm, and Jacob watched her struggle. She placed both feet on the ground and pulled herself to her feet. She stopped to find her balance before slowly crossing the room to where Jacob stood. Still holding Landon's hand, Rebekah wrapped one arm around Jacob's neck in a brief embrace.

"It really is good to see you," she said again.

Jacob returned the hug, still surprised at how fragile she felt.

"Come on," she said as she pulled away, "let's go outside. It's warm enough, today."

Landon helped her pull on a jacket and slip on her shoes. Then, Jacob followed as they lead the way. Rebekah took them down the elevator to a small courtyard at the center of the facility. It was like a private, little sanctuary, with late-season flowers and the crisp scent of fall leaves in the air. The sun was fairly warm, for October. As they looked around, Jacob realized that it had been exactly a year since they'd met. It had been October, one year ago, when they'd started this journey together. It seemed like the time had flown, and yet it also felt like an eternity had passed.

The three of them sat down on a couple of the benches that were scattered throughout the space. No one spoke for a moment as they took in their surroundings. Finally, Rebekah said, "I'm really glad they have this space. I think I might've gone crazy without it."

Jacob smiled in agreement.

"You can't lock a mountain girl up for very long," Rebekah mused, "At least, that's what Hayleigh always says."

Jacob laughed, "That sounds like her."

There was another comfortable silence, and then Rebekah said, "Landon, will you get us some drinks? From the machine on the second floor?"

Landon nodded, and fished around in his pocket for some change. Jacob started to offer some money, but Landon smiled and said, "Don't worry. I'll find some quarters. Or I'll wander around for a little bit. I'm pretty sure she just wants to talk to you alone. I guess, if you were anyone else, that might worry me…"

Jacob raised his brow, and Landon laughed good-naturedly as he walked away.

Once he was gone, Rebekah studied the cloud-strewn sky before she spoke. Eventually, she said, "I still can't tell you where she is, Jacob."

"I pretty much figured that," he sighed.

"Is that why you came by?" Rebekah asked, not unkindly.

Jacob was a bit taken aback, "No. I came because you're my friend, and I care about you."

Rebekah smiled then, "I always knew you were a good person. And a good friend."

"I try," Jacob offered.

There was a pause, with both of them studying their surroundings.

Finally, Jacob said, "The truth is, since I know you're wondering, I'm not sure how I feel. About Rosalyn. I guess…someone told you what all happened?"

Rebekah nodded, her expression thoughtful.

"Do you think I was wrong? Did I do the wrong thing?" Jacob asked softly.

Rebekah continued to look at him with her soft, gray eyes that were always kind. Then, she said, "No. I don't think you were wrong. I think you genuinely love her, and wanted her to be happy. But I also don't think you could have avoided what happened. That had nothing to do with you."

Jacob looked at his hands, saying, "I just…want to understand why she would do that. I want to know what happened…"

Rebekah cocked her head and replied, "I think you know the answer. We both do. The problem isn't finding the answer, Jacob, it's accepting the reality of it. Rosalyn did what she did because it's how she keeps her feelings under control. It's like her drug. It's not about you. It's about her. Her self-preserving instinct overrode her feelings for you. All she's ever known is selfishness, because no one else has ever protected her."

As Jacob listened, he watched Rebekah. He wondered how it was that she could be so wise. She wasn't even a year older than him. She was far from being forceful or loud. Still, she commanded his attention. People listened to her. They opened up, and she made them comfortable. Rebekah seemed to draw wisdom from a deep pool within, and then give it out in the form of quiet strength. Jacob had never noticed before what a gift it was.

He chose his words carefully, saying, "I guess I knew that. But still…I want to know why she ran from me. It might sound presumptuous or whiny, but I need some closure. I need to know that she's done with me."

Rebekah looked at her hands, and then fixed him with a serious look, "I can't give you that, Jacob. And I can't speak for Rosalyn. I truly don't know anything more than that she's okay."

Jacob's shoulders dropped, as though he'd been holding out hope for a better answer.

"I miss her, too," Rebekah continued quietly, "She's my best friend."

"So, you haven't seen her at all?" he asked.

Rebekah shook her head, "No. She would only tell me that she's okay."

Jacob sighed and looked away.

After another long moment, Rebekah said, "Jacob, I think you're going to have to decide how you feel…on your own."

He looked at her, confused.

She continued, "I don't know exactly what Rosalyn is going through right now, but I think…you need to work out your feelings alone. I think you need to decide if you still love her…if you could ever forgive her. I think you need to know what you want. For you. I think, sometimes, distance can clarify things."

Jacob set his features into a guarded expression, trying to absorb what Rebekah was saying.

"Things are different now, Jacob. You don't have me to worry about. Neither one of you is trying to work through grief and uncertainty. You're not seeing each other every day, and nearly living together. You've been with her. Physically, you know her completely. So now, you can decide if that's all this was. You can figure out if you were just captivated by her, or if you really have the strength to love someone like her."

Jacob cocked his head, and said, "Even if I figure that out, how can I find someone who doesn't want to be found?"

Rebekah smoothed back her curls, which fluttered in the afternoon breeze, and said, "Once you figure it out, maybe I can find her for you."

"Are you blackmailing me?" Jacob asked.

"No," Rebekah shook her head, "I'm being real with you. And I can't promise that I can find her. I can't make her show herself, if that's not what she wants."

Jacob paused for a minute, thinking, and then asked, "What kind of person does it make me, if I realize it was just physical? What if I'm not strong enough…in the long run? What if I can't forgive her?"

Rebekah looked thoughtful, "I suppose, if you can admit to that, it makes you an honest man."

Jacob struggled with his words, "I don't want to be just another guy, Rebekah. I don't want to be just another guy who took advantage of her."

Rebekah studied him, her expression deeply thoughtful, and then she said, "I agree. That's an ugly truth. But if it's the truth, then it is what is."

"You're not making this any easier," Jacob sighed.

Rebekah crossed her legs in front of herself on the bench where she sat. She pushed her hair back from her face, and said, "Truth? I don't think you're that type of person, Jacob. I don't believe you would ever intentionally use someone. But, I just…I don't know that you can change her. And I don't know that you're strong enough to keep pursuing her. And maybe you shouldn't be. It seems wrong…for you to be hurt and scarred over and over from trying to love her."

Jacob rubbed his eyes, trying to sort out all the thoughts running rampant through his head. Finally, he said, "I guess…but none of it matters if she won't even talk to me. It doesn't matter what I think, or feel."

Rebekah nodded slowly, and then answered, "Maybe. And I wish I had a better answer for you. But I don't know where she is. All I know is that you're going to have to sort this out on your own. You've got to find peace with it all."

"So you think I should just move on?" Jacob asked softly.

Rebekah cocked her head and said, "I just…think you need some time to sort out exactly what you want. Stop trying to find her for now, and get some distance. I really believe it might help."

"And what do I do if I can't find peace without her? What if…I love her in spite of it all?"

Rebekah looked at him for a moment, "You just need to make sure that's what you want. With absolute certainty. Then, maybe I can get her to listen to me. Maybe."

Jacob looked at the sky, squinting into the bright, blue expanse, and said, "That's a lot of maybes…"

"Life is uncertain," Rebekah said quietly.

Jacob looked at her, and understood that she was a living example of that truth. Then, he looked away, conflicted.

* * *

The following day, Jacob continued home to southern Ohio. Feeling a little pathetic, but having little other choice, he took a cab from the airport to his mother's house in their small town near the Kentucky border. It was the same house where'd they'd lived while he'd gone to high school. It was the same house he'd returned to each summer during college. It was a familiar, comfortable place. As old as he was, it was home.

His mother, Kate, greeted him warmly, and was glad for his company. She helped put his things in his room, and then made coffee. She asked about the tour and listened while he told stories about traveling that he hadn't had time to share when they'd talked on the phone. Having heard about the accident, she asked about Rebekah and how her recovery was progressing. They talked for some time that evening, and Jacob was incredibly glad to be home. As much as he loved his work, he was a simple person, and he had always been most comfortable with family. And his mother was nearly all the family that he had.

After chatting for a couple hours, Kate made some sandwiches for dinner, and filled Jacob in briefly on what life had brought since he'd been gone. Finally, when they were sufficiently caught up and had reached a thoughtful moment, Kate took a breath and asked, "So…what about the girl? The one you told me about months ago?"

Jacob looked away, uncomfortable.

Kate brushed her sandy, graying hair behind her ears, and said, "Come on, if she was important enough to keep you talking about her, surely you haven't just forgotten about her."

Jacob, having kept very few things from his mother, struggled with what to say. After another moment, he started, "It got complicated, mom."

Kate looked a bit surprised, "I thought she wouldn't even agree to go out with you?"

Jacob looked out the window, pensive.

His mother smiled and said, "I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy. You're an adult. You don't have to explain it to me."

Jacob sighed, and tried to smile in return, "No, it's okay. It's just…I feel like I should've known…like, I was too naïve to see the obvious…"

Kate poured fresh cups of coffee, and asked softly, "What happened?"

Jacob sipped his coffee, and eventually let the story spill out. Hearing it out loud, it seemed even more obvious that he should have seen heartbreak coming. He should have realized that he couldn't sweep Rosalyn away, like some sort of fairy tale. He also felt a little guilty for having kept his mother in the dark. She'd always be there for him, without being overbearing. She'd been through a lot, and yet she had a quiet strength that Jacob admired. He wondered if she was hurt, that he'd kept his relationship with Rosalyn from her. When he was done explaining, he looked at his hands, feeling a little pathetic.

Kate took a breath and asked, "You slept with her?"

Suddenly wishing he hadn't always been so brutally honest with his mother, Jacob nodded. He knew that she understood the significance of what had happened, but Kate didn't voice what she knew. She held her tongue until Jacob spoke.

"I'm sure I sound like some sort of whiny teenager. You probably expected to be having this conversation back when I was in high school," he grumbled.

Kate gave a soft smile, and said, "No. You sound like someone who's in love, and who's been hurt."

"Yeah…" Jacob sighed.

Kate took another sip of coffee, and asked carefully, "Was she really worth all this Jacob? I know I sound like an overprotective mother, but was she really all that special?"

Jacob was quiet for a moment, before he answered, "I guess that's what I have to figure out."

Kate nodded, and then added, "Just…don't chase her, Jacob. If she doesn't want you, then you don't need her. I can understand why you feel for her. You're a sweet and compassionate man. But don't let her use you. You deserve better than that."

Jacob nodded, appreciating the concern.

* * *

He settled into a familiar routine over the next couple of weeks. Jacob had decided to take a little time off before accepting another job, and he found himself drawing a sense of calm from being at home. The first frost of the season was taking hold as October drew to a close, and the crispness in the air reminded him of so many winters spent in the small, yet cozy house his mother kept meticulously clean. A strong sentimentality took hold, as he thought about how far he'd traveled from the little town he loved. Jacob often thought about all the places his career had taken him, and he compared them to this place where the mailman was someone he'd known since childhood. He started to wonder if he wanted to go back to it all. He wondered if he loved performing as much as he once did, or if the thrill was wearing off. Jacob battled with whether it was time to make a life change.

One afternoon, in the midst of all the thinking, he ran into an old friend on his way to the grocery store. Walking along the leaf-strewn path, he was staring at his phone when he very literally ran into a young woman walking her dog on the same path. Apologizing profusely, Jacob realized that he knew her.

He untangled himself from the dog's leash, and said, "Bridgett? Bridgett Bailey?"

The petite blonde smiled, and said, "Yeah. Jacob Callahan?"

He nodded.

"Wow. It's been absolutely forever! Are you back in town for a while?"

Jacob nodded again, "Yeah. I finished up my last tour a few weeks ago."

Bridgett smiled broadly, "Who'd have figured you'd be the one of us to really make it. Of course, you always did have the best voice, even if you were too shy to show it half the time."

Jacob laughed a little, "Yeah. I certainly thought there were some others in that theater class more worthy of this career than me."

Bridgett slapped his arm and laughed, "Maybe, but you really were the best, vocally. I just never thought you'd been able to handle the competition, you know? The cutthroat, backstabbing and such."

Jacob shrugged, "It's not so bad, or maybe I was just lucky."

Bridgett smiled, "Maybe. But you're also very talented. And, you know, now that it's been ten years…I really wish you'd had the guts to ask me to prom."

Jacob chuckled at the memory, "Yeah…I've never been great at stuff like that."

Fiddling with the leash, which was attached to a very obedient black Labrador, Bridgett said, "You really turned out pretty well, for such an awkward kid."

Jacob smiled, and then caught the hint of something other than a friendly compliment in Bridgett's tone. He ran a hand through his hair, and said softly, "Thanks."

They talked easily for another few minutes, before the dog started to fidget.

Looking at him carefully, Bridgett asked, "Do you want to come back to my place for some coffee? Or tea? Or whatever else you might want to drink?"

Jacob stood there for a minute, understanding that she was asking about more than having a drink. She was asking whether he was in a relationship. She was asking for permission to pursue him. As inexperienced as he might be, Jacob understood people. He could read social cues, and he knew this was an important moment. So he considered the past few months. He thought about Rosalyn and their tumultuous relationship. He thought about what both Rebekah and his mother had said, and the fact that he hadn't seen Rosalyn in three months. He considered how lonely he often felt, now. Then, he made a decision.

"Sure," Jacob finally answered.

Bridgett gave a wide smile that crinkled up her soft, brown eyes. She tugged on the dog's leash, and led the way back down the block towards her house.

They spent the afternoon talking and laughing over stories from high school. They looked at old yearbook pictures and Jacob let her catch him up on what their old friends were doing. When it became evening, they ordered pizza and watched old tapes of their high school musicals. Jacob felt entirely at ease, and remembered why he'd always liked Bridgett. Her gentle sense of humor and outgoing personality drew him in easily. She was sweet, kind, and as much fun as she'd been years before. And she was pretty. Perhaps not show-stopping gorgeous, but Bridgett's rich, honey-colored hair brushed her shoulders attractively. Her upturned nose and bright eyes were entirely appealing, and Jacob wondered why he'd never been able to ask her out. Then, he considered whether Rosalyn was the one who'd made him so much bolder.

It was a thought that made him feel conflicted, as they polished off the pizza, and he knew he was approaching the point when he had to decide how this evening would progress. Jacob reminded himself, once again, that he was trying to move on. He looked at Bridgett, who was laughing over the latest video they were watching. He looked at her, and decided he was attracted to her, at least. He enjoyed her company, and it felt good not to be alone. When she turned and looked back at him, she must have caught the intensity in his eyes. She stopped and stared up at him, and Jacob closed the space between them on the sofa. He leaned down and kissed her, and she didn't pull away.

They forgot the videos at that point, and sank into each other. Knowing each other as well as they did, it was easy to let the relationship take the step it had never taken when they were younger. Jacob was bolder, braver, and less uncertain than he'd once been, and she was entirely willing. Bridgett pulled him down onto her couch and kissed him thoroughly, and then took him back to her bedroom.

"Maybe," Jacob said on the way, "we should get to know each other a little more?"

Bridgett shook her head, "We've known each other for twenty years. You helped me change costumes in seven shows. I know you."

Jacob could find no argument, so he let instinct take over. He was attracted to her, and he sincerely cared about her. Bridgett was a good friend, and certainly the type of person who he'd always imagined he'd end up with. So he made love to her because it made sense. He made love to her because it was time to move on, and because she was a fresh breeze in the difficulty that had been his life over the past few months.

And the next day, when the soft, morning light filtered through the filmy curtains in Bridgett's room, Jacob felt himself coming to a difficult conclusion. The girl in bed next to him was sweet, kind, and probably more suited for him than anyone he could find. They had a strong friendship and a significant history. Bridgett was loyal and hardworking, and she understood him. They could be very content together, and the sex was fine. And she wanted him, which was more than he could say for Rosalyn.

_We make sense together,_ Jacob told himself.

So he pulled himself closer to Bridgett, and called it moving on.

* * *

Three weeks later, Jacob and Bridgett had fallen into an easy routine. They took walks together and went to the movies. They hung out with Kate and visited their old haunts in their hometown. They spent Thanksgiving at both his house with his mother, and with Bridgett's parents a few streets over. It was small town romance at its best, and it was comfortable. Jacob told himself he was lucky, to have someone who was such a good friend. He told himself that the spark would come, once they'd been together long enough, once it lasted long enough to be serious. He reminded himself how nice it was just to be part of something, to be cared for, and not to be alone. That should be enough, he often told himself.

Then, just after Thanksgiving, Jacob's world took another dizzying turn. He picked up the phone that Monday night, while watching TV at home, without looking at who was calling. Half expecting it to be Bridgett, he answered haphazardly.

"Hello?"

"Jacob?"

He stopped, and his breath caught at the sound of her voice.

"Rosalyn?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she answered evenly.

Jacob felt frozen in place, and he could think of nothing to say.

After a long, quiet moment, Rosalyn asked, "Can we talk?"

"Sure…" Jacob answered, still shocked and confused.

"Jacob…I'd like to see you."

"What?" he sputtered.

"I know this is sudden, and unexpected, but I'd like to talk to you. In person," Rosalyn explained.

"Rosalyn," he said haltingly, "it's been four months…"

"I know. And I know that you don't understand. I just need a chance to talk to you. Face to face."

Jacob hesitated, and then said, "I think…I've moved on, Rosalyn. I think, this might just make things harder."

There was a pause before Rosalyn said, "I understand, Jacob. But, would you do this for me? Maybe you don't need to see me. Maybe you've got your own life, without me. But…I need to see you. I'm just asking for a chance to talk to you. Would you do this, for me?"

Jacob sat there, phone to his ear, and struggled. He wanted to say no. He wanted to tell her that he couldn't take another round of emotional mayhem. But something in her voice was different. He couldn't say for sure what it was, but there was a difference.

So he sat there, as Rosalyn waited quietly for his response, and struggled with his answer.


	28. Chapter 28: Beyond Closure

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Wicked...in three days...in my costume again. Yay! I also went to a cabaret show featuring the cast on Monday, and then to a party with them after. Awesomeness. This is the best week ever... The coolest part about it was, I got the Elphie standby to agree to provide me with some much needed insider info for this story, when I rework it for publication. More awesomeness.

**Anyhoo...enjoy, and I'm going to beg for reviews this time, unless you've all gone on haitus...**

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**Chapter 28: Beyond Closure**

Jacob was silent for such a long time, Rosalyn finally asked carefully, "Jacob?"

He sighed and answered, "I'm still here. I just…I don't know that this is a good idea…"

"I don't blame you," Rosalyn said, "for thinking that. But this is something I need. For me. Please? Will you come and talk to me?"

Jacob asked the obvious, "Where are you?"

"I'm in South Carolina," Rosalyn replied.

"You want me to come there?" Jacob asked in disbelief.

There was a pause, "Please, Jacob? There's a reason…for the location."

Jacob wrestled with his thoughts, trying to decide what he owed her. He wrestled with what he needed for himself. Finally, he said, "All right. But you have to know…I'm seeing someone else."

There was another long pause, "I suppose I don't blame you," Rosalyn said softly.

"And you still want to talk to me?" Jacob asked.

"Yes," Rosalyn stated.

Jacob sighed, "All right. I'll come down this Friday. That will give me time to plan this."

"Thank you," Rosalyn said in a low voice.

After she gave him an address in South Carolina, they both hung up the phone. Then, Jacob sat there for a few minutes, dumbfounded. His thoughts churned, and he couldn't decide how he felt. He'd been hoping for a chance to talk with her for some time, but he'd never decided what he wanted, if it happened. Jacob wasn't sure if he was seeking an apology, or just an explanation. He believed Rebekah, when she'd said the reasons for what Rosalyn did would not surprise him. He wasn't expecting some story that would make the entire situation all right. So what was he hoping for? It was a question he couldn't answer. So Jacob decided he was doing it for Rosalyn. He determined that he would meet with her because she seemed to need something from him. In doing that, he felt, he might be able to forgive her and move on.

He also recognized that he would have to tell Bridgett about this meeting. There was no way he could meet with an ex-lover and not let her know. Jacob knew enough about relationships to realize that seeing Rosalyn behind Bridgett's back would be wrong. It would also probably be the immediate end of his current relationship. So he took a deep breath, and considered how to tell her.

_I need this, though, _he told himself, _I need the closure. And if she needs that from me, then I don't want to say no. I don't want to deny Rosalyn that…_

Still, he knew, there was no denying that Bridgett would be upset. There was no getting around the complication of it all. Jacob rubbed his eyes, weary.

* * *

"So…you have to drive…what? Seven hours? Just to talk to her? That doesn't make a lot of sense, Jacob."

It was the following day, and Bridgett was understandably upset. Jacob had told her the whole story of his relationship with Rosalyn, including about her strange disappearance and the sudden phone call. He was doing his best to explain why he needed to see Rosalyn, but Bridgett was as skeptical as he'd expected.

"I know it's unusual," Jacob tried to explain, "but…Rosalyn's been through a lot. And, if making this right with me can help her to have a better life, I think I should give her that."

"It shouldn't be up to you to make her happy," Bridgett grumbled.

"I know," Jacob answered, "but, don't you think it's the right thing? To help her find peace? If that's what she wants?"

Bridgett chewed her lip, "And what if she doesn't want peace? What if she wants you?"

Jacob thought for a minute, before he met Bridgett's eyes again, "I think that, if Rosalyn wanted me, she would say it. She knows I'm seeing someone. And I don't think she's the type to play games. I mean…before…she just said it. She said she wanted me…"

Bridgett looked away then, and Jacob decided that that might have been too much information.

"But…do you still want her?" Bridgett asked softly.

Jacob looked at his hands, and then looked into a face clouded by uncertainty. He tried to look into the deepest parts of himself, and decide the truth.

Bridgett continued quietly, "Can you tell me, honestly, that if she told you she was still in love with you, that you would say no?"

Jacob sat there, warring with himself. He tried to imagine it, and gauge his reaction. He tried to decide if he might still love Rosalyn, or if he should. He looked at Bridgett, and weighed his feelings for her. And he was terribly conflicted.

When he said nothing for some time, Bridgett spoke again, "You don't know, do you?"

Jacob put his face in his hands, and then rubbed his eyes. When he looked up, he said, "I never expected to hear from her again. I thought she was through with me. I was trying to move on. Bridgett, I would never have deliberately tried to hurt you…"

She sighed heavily, and her eyes were sad, "I just wish you had told me…I wish you'd said something about how recently this was. And that it hadn't…ended."

"I care about you, Bridgett. And I'm sorry."

"But…do you love me?" she asked.

Jacob took a moment to respond, "I could."

"But do you _want_ to?"

He thought for a moment, confused.

Bridgett tried again, "Do you want to love me? Or do you want to love her? I think you have to figure that out."

"It might not be about what I want," Jacob answered.

"Well, if you realize you want her, and she rejects you, I don't know that I want you to settle for me. I don't want to be your consolation prize," Bridgett stated bluntly.

"I guess I don't blame you," Jacob said.

There was a quiet moment before Bridgett asked, "So what do we do?"

Jacob sighed, "I think I have to do this. I don't think it's fair to you, for me to not figure this out."

Bridgett nodded sadly, "I think you need some time, Jacob. I think we should put this on hold for a while…"

"Maybe…"

"Just…go. Forgive her, if you can. And then, when you come back, we'll back up a little and take things more slowly. We'll see if there's still a chance for us…" Bridgett offered sadly.

Jacob nodded, glad that she was willing to be so gracious. He took her hand, and tried to be comforting, knowing he'd hurt her.

Bridgett looked away.

* * *

That Friday, Jacob made the trip to South Carolina. He considered flying down, but ultimately decided that the drive would give him time to think. Not wanting to take his mother's only car, he'd rented one and started out early Friday morning. For most of the drive, he was lost in his thoughts, trying to calm his nerves and plan what he might say. He was trying to sort out his feelings for two very different women, and decide what the right choices were.

When he arrived, he carefully followed his directions through a small town just over the state line between Georgia and South Carolina. Jacob let the car's GPS take him as far as possible, and then he followed his hand-written instructions to a tiny restaurant in an equally tiny town. It was a quiet, simple place, tucked in the heart of the deep south.

The trees were stripped bare for winter, but the evergreens were still full and lush. The sky was bright with clear, chilly sunshine. The streets were rough and worn, and the local businesses had clearly been operating for generations. It was winter, but not cold enough to chase everyone in from the streets. Patrons made their way up and down the sidewalks, and bustled in and out of the post office. The town had already been decorated for Christmas, and the banners and wreaths fluttered in a delicate breeze. It seemed like a nice enough town, but not the type of place where Rosalyn would be happy. Jacob wondered at her choice of location as he parked his car in front of the restaurant she'd chosen.

Stepping out of the car, he scanned the place. It was just a café, really, with a patio to the side with outdoor seating. Pulling on his jacket, Jacob decided it wasn't cold enough for his heavier coat. As he let the car door shut behind him, he caught sight of someone sitting at one of the patio tables. Looking more closely, he realized it was her.

Jacob stood there for a minute, and studied her. She was sitting a few yards away, with her cheek propped up on one arm, which rested on the table. She was wrapped against the cold in layers, with a deep, plum-colored, knee-length sweater buttoned over her dress and leggings. She had her feet, shod in furry boots, crossed at the ankles. Her hair was still long and heavy, and half of it was pulled haphazardly up behind her head. In so many ways, she was the same. She was the same Rosalyn who'd walked away from him months ago.

And still, his foolish heart leapt at the site of her. In spite of everything, he felt a twinge of what he'd felt when he'd first seen her singing, so many months ago. Jacob silently cursed himself, for being much less over her than he'd thought. He was frustrated and angry, because she could still affect him. She still struck a chord of longing in him, and he was afraid he was going to lose the ability to be rational. He was afraid of plunging himself into more heartbreak.

Taking a deep breath, he crossed to her then, afraid she might catch him staring. When he was a few feet from her, she finally saw him.

Offering a hesitant smile, she said, "Jacob…"

"Rosalyn," he said softly.

Without standing, she offered the chair in front of her, and he carefully sat. After another moment, she said, "They have good coffee here, if you like."

Jacob shook his head, "I'm fine."

He looked at his hands, and there was a moment of silence.

Then, Rosalyn offered, "How have you been?"

Taken aback, Jacob couldn't stop himself from saying, "I think we're past the pleasantries, Rosalyn. I think you can imagine how I've been."

Rosalyn's expression clouded, and she said, "You seem all right. You said you're seeing someone else?"

Jacob took a breath, "Yeah. I couldn't wait for you forever, if that's what you were hoping for."

"I understand," she said softly.

"I guess I'm angrier than I realized," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

"I suppose I don't blame you," Rosalyn answered.

"I just…" Jacob struggled, "I don't understand how you could just walk away. I don't understand how we could have what we had, and it mean nothing to you."

"It didn't mean nothing," she whispered.

"You slept with someone else without even telling me you were through with me! Knowing how…" Jacob's voice caught with emotion, "how much I loved you. Knowing…what you meant to me."

"I know," Rosalyn said, looking at her hands.

"I gave you my virginity, Rosalyn, because I believed that you wanted me! Not just a guy, not just another partner, but _me._ I knew it would be hard. I knew you weren't ready to love me completely, but I thought…I was different. I thought I was more than just Novocain for your pain."

"You were different, Jacob," she answered, still looking down.

"You have no idea how much I loved you, Rosalyn. You can't imagine how significant you were to me. Being with you…I don't have words. Not just because you're beautiful, but because you're…you. That's who I am. I'm not hardened and careless. But I'm more than a little foolish. And I should have realized what you would do to me..."

Rosalyn's face darkened with hurt and regret, "I've really messed you up, haven't I?"

Jacob looked away, trying to compose himself.

"I never meant to do this to you…" she whispered.

He clenched his fists, "Then what did you mean to do? And where have you been? Why did you treat me the way you did, and walk away as though it was nothing?"

Rosalyn studied the table, laying her hands on the flat surface and taking a breath. When she looked up, her eyes were sad, yet resolute. She spoke, saying, "I had to come back here, Jacob. _This_ is where I've been," she backtracked, "I stayed with my sister for a few weeks while she finished a summer project in St. Louis, and then I moved back here with her. She's taken her first teaching job, just outside of Atlanta. I've been living with her, here."

"And you couldn't tell me that? You couldn't call me?" Jacob accused.

Rosalyn held him in her dark-eyed gaze, "No. I spent the first few weeks after I left the tour in a daze. I went out and slept around, and made my sister want to kill me. I wasn't thinking about you. I was thinking about me, and I was reaching a breaking point. I was on the edge of something very scary, and by God's grace, Julianne saw that. She slapped me, literally. She said a lot of things, and made me come home with her. And it wasn't until I got back here that I really realized why I had to leave, why I needed to leave."

"What reason was good enough to hurt me the way you did?" Jacob asked, refusing to give in.

Rosalyn took a deep breath, "I had to get some things right, Jacob. By myself. I've had scars and demons locked up inside of me for years. You can't fix that. No matter how much you love me. I had to come back to this place where my life took such a horrific turn," she paused, "I'm not as hard and strong as you think I am, Jacob. I have cried more tears alone in my shower than I can ever count. I have hurt so badly that I wanted to wound myself just to ease the pain. I have lived off of the rush of power from controlling men for ten years. I have pushed everyone away, because I have hated myself. And I have blamed myself for my father's death every day since I was fourteen."

Jacob looked at her, trying to stay resolved in his anger.

Rosalyn started again, "I had to forgive him, Jacob. I had to realize that he's just a man, who made very poor choices. He was selfish and foolish, but that wasn't my fault. He hurt me not because there was something wrong with me, but because he chose selfishness over humbly getting help for his addictions. And I was well on my way to becoming like him. I hurt you, because I was selfish."

Jacob nodded, still feeling the hurt.

"He was my father. The only father I'll ever have. And I needed to finally mourn him, because he died twice for me. Once when he raped me, and once when I shot him. And I needed to believe that it wasn't my fault. I needed to let it all go," Rosalyn concluded softly.

Jacob studied her, and then asked, "Still, why couldn't you have just asked me to give you some time?"

A flash of panic flitted across Rosalyn's face, and she looked down, "Because…I knew that you wouldn't just let me walk away. You'd want to be with me, and help me."

"I would have respected what you wanted, if you'd asked me," Jacob insisted.

She still stared at her hands, "I had to know that I was doing it for me, not for you. I had to know that I could do this, even if I lost you."

Jacob nodded, feeling a twinge of understanding.

Another long moment passed before Rosalyn spoke up again, "Jacob…there's something else…"

"What?" he asked.

She swallowed hard, "I didn't ask you to come here so I could beg you to take me back. I've ruined that. But…I have to tell you this, because it's wrong to keep it from you," she took a breath, "The reason why they let me leave the tour is because I…I'm pregnant."

Jacob sat there, absolutely stunned. Then, he felt a little sick. He started to feel as though she'd poured acid on an already festering wound. Gritting his teeth, he said, "I suppose that was bound to happen."

Rosalyn looked surprised, and then hurt.

"I mean, with all the casual sex and all," Jacob threw out bitterly, "Do you want me to feel sorry for you?"

She looked genuinely wounded as she said, "No…Jacob…it's yours. I'm telling you, because…he's yours."

Jacob froze, and this time he felt as though he'd been punched squarely in the gut. He couldn't speak, and he could barely breathe. The only word he get out was, "He?"

Rosalyn nodded, "Yes, he. It's a boy. And he's yours."

She stood up then, and Jacob saw it. She carefully undid the buttons on her sweater, to reveal the black, knit dress beneath. Without the bulk of the sweater, he could see the smooth, roundness of her stomach stretching the fabric. And he sat there, speechless.

"I've been very careful," Rosalyn explained, placing her hands on her belly, "I've never had a pregnancy scare or caught anything. It was part of the control. I was never careless…until you. I've never been uninhibited and just…caught up in the moment. I've never forgotten everyone and everything because I wanted someone so badly…until you. You were the only one, Jacob. He has to be yours…"

Jacob still had no words.

"I didn't just give up my addictions for you, Jacob. I gave them up for him," Rosalyn stated, her eyes full of meaning.

"He's my son?" Jacob finally sputtered.

"If you want," Rosalyn answered, "I'm not asking for anything. I'm not asking you to uproot your life or change anything. I just think he should know who his father is. Even if you don't want to be part of this, I thought you should know…"

Jacob rubbed his eyes, finally coming back to earth. He stood up, saying, "Rosalyn…how could you ever think that I wouldn't want to be part of this?"

"You've moved on," she said, "And I don't blame you."

"Still, this is my child," Jacob stated, "And it's not just your fault. I mean, I should have realized…"

Rosalyn's voice was thick with meaning when she said, "It was a very emotional time…"

Jacob nodded, still overwhelmed.

Rosalyn looked at him for a moment, and then asked, "Will you walk with me?"

Jacob agreed, deciding that might help clear his head. He followed her away from the patio and down the tree-lined street, toward a park on the corner. Silently, Rosalyn made her way down the path, through the trees, and across a quiet street. Following the sidewalk, she continued up a grassy hill to a clearing. Having little to say at the moment, Jacob followed quietly.

It wasn't until they started across the clearing in the bright sunshine that he realized they were walking through a cemetery. It was bright and well-kept, with big expanses of lush grass, but it was still a cemetery. Jacob was a little unnerved, but he continued to follow. Finally, Rosalyn stopped, and looked backward as if to make sure he was still following. Then, she looked ahead of her at one of the headstones. The simple plaque read, _Joseph Keith Smith._

Rosalyn took a breath and said, "This is where my father is buried."

Jacob studied the headstone and asked, "Smith?"

"He and my mother were never married," she explained, "He was just a simple, southern man. He was just someone who was caught up in his own struggles, and he couldn't get out. So he turned to hate and malice," she paused, "I've never visited this place, until the past few months."

Jacob felt another twinge of compassion, and said, "Rosalyn, I'm still so sorry…for what happened to you. I've been angry, but I have always understood how much you've been hurt…"

Rosalyn nodded, saying, "But that's not all that I am anymore. Now, that is my past."

Looking at her in the warm light, with a slight breeze ruffling her hair, Jacob saw the change in her. There was a stillness about her now, a calm strength that she'd never had. The storminess in her eyes had been replaced by quiet resolve. Jacob was deeply moved, seeing her this way.

"I've forgiven him," she said softly, "And I need to know...if you can forgive me."

In spite of himself, Jacob choked out, "Yes…I can."

She reached out and took his hand, and he startled a little at her touch. Holding onto him, Rosalyn said, "I have to tell you something else, Jacob. But please understand, I'm not trying to ruin your life, or your relationship. I just need to say this…for me, and I need to say it to your face."

Jacob swallowed, not sure what else she could possibly drop on him at this point.

She looked up at him with glossy eyes and said, "I…I love you, Jacob. I can say that now. I could love you, now, because I think…I know how to give. And I just needed to say it out loud. Even if there's no future for us…I will always love you for what you've done for me."

Jacob was floored, and he stepped backward, suddenly aware of how close they were. He dropped her hand, and tried to steady himself. He struggled, emotionally. Then, feeling like he might be the stupidest man on the planet, he stepped in and kissed her. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her until they were breathless and gasping. He sank into her, lingering on her lips as he tried to control himself. Jacob held onto her, with his forehead pressed against hers and his hands in her hair.

Finally pulling back, Rosalyn brought her hands to her lips as though she was quite surprised at what he'd done. Carefully, she said, "Please don't do this if you're not sincere, Jacob. If you want to walk away…if this is too much, please just tell me. Because I don't think I can get over you again…"

Jacob looked at her. He looked at the woman he'd loved and hated. He considered their tumultuous past and their uncertain future. He understood that he was bound to her, regardless, because of this child. And he knew there was a choice to be made. Still, he had no words. So he pulled her into him.

Jacob wrapped his arms around her from behind so that he could place his hands on her stomach. She had left the sweater unbuttoned, and the roundness of her body was now very obvious. Standing there, he could feel the new life kicking within her, and he rested his face against her soft hair. He held her that way for some time, as the sun started to set the sky ablaze with the prismatic show of twilight. They stood there, so different, so unlikely, and so changed by one another. And they struggled with their future, in the shadow of the past. They tried to find the next step, beyond closure.


	29. Chapter 29: For Good

**So I apologize sincerely for the haitus. Life happened. Wicked happened, and twas awesome. This time, we got a free promotional poster signed by the entire cast. There's also a Chilis and a WalMart that will never forget me. Now...my next goal is New York, for Wicked Day, in costume...**

**This is the last chapter, somewhat sadly. I hope you enjoy, and that you'll send me one last review. I will also now begin the process of editing this story for publication. That also means this will not be posted up here forever. Once I, hopefully, get close to publishing, I'll have to take it down. But for now...enjoy.**

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**Chapter 29: For Good**

As Rebekah pushed through the doors of the hospital, she pulled her heavy coat around herself. The chill from outside lingered, in spite of the cheery warmth of the well-appointed lobby. In February, even the suburbs of Atlanta fell prey to winter's icy grip, and today was no exception. Seeing her shivering, Landon took her hand and smiled softly at her.

Entwining his fingers with hers, Landon offered, "Do you need to stop here for a minute?"

Rebekah smiled in return, "Landon, I'm fine. I promise."

He didn't argue, but kept his fingers laced through hers as they walked.

Following her written directions, Rebekah made her way toward the elevators. She pressed the button, and took a deep breath while she waited. She was a bit more uneasy than she would admit to Landon, but it had nothing to do with her physical condition. She was feeling stronger than she had in some time, and Rebekah believed she could finally call herself healed. She was ready to say that the accident was behind her. Today, however, she was still a bit on edge.

"You're awfully quiet," Landon observed as they rode the elevator to the second floor.

"It's just…it's been a long time…" Rebekah struggled.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Landon offered, "She's the same person you knew before the accident."

Rebekah shook her head, "No, she's not."

"Okay…but I thought that was a good thing?" Landon questioned.

"It is…I know it is. And it's not as though I haven't talked to her. Maybe I'm just uneasy because of the hospital. I'll be happy not to see a hospital for quite some time, after this," Rebekah half-teased.

Landon laughed, "That, I can agree with."

Rebekah squeezed his hand, and they exited the elevator. Continuing down the hallway, they made their way to room two-eighteen. Hesitantly, Rebekah knocked on the door. Getting no response, she very slowly pushed open the heavy door, and peered inside. The room was lit only by one small lamp and the fading sunlight that filtered through the drawn curtains. Seeing that there was no one else inside, Rebekah moved quietly through the door. Landon followed slowly behind.

Several steps into the room, Rebekah finally caught sight of her. She lay very still against a stack of pillows, her eyes closed in sleep.

_Rosalyn._

Rebekah's reaction was strangely similar to the first time they'd confronted each other, in a dorm room more than six years ago. She was caught somewhere between uneasiness and nervous excitement. And Rosalyn was still striking, even with her hair pulled back atop her head in a mussed-up ponytail. She was a little pale, and her face was devoid of makeup. She wore an oversized shirt which, very appropriately, had _Defy Gravity_ printed across the front. Rebekah chuckled at how Rosalyn never stopped making a statement, even while napping in a hospital bed.

She tried to be as quiet as possible as she sat her purse down next to one of the chairs. Landon followed suit, taking a seat in another one of the plush chairs. Rebekah looked around then, impressed at the room. It was almost as nice as her room at the rehabilitation center, which was saying a lot for a hospital room.

She was still looking around, when a voice behind her said, "Not too shabby, is it?"

Rebekah turned to see Rosalyn looking at her with a tiny smirk on her lips. Her eyes were tired, but still full of personality.

Rebekah crossed the room to stand beside Rosalyn's bed, and said, "Hi…"

"Hey yourself," Rosalyn answered.

Rebekah stood there for a few moments, trying to find the right words. For two people who had shared so much, it seemed ridiculous that she wouldn't know what to say. Still, it had been seven months since they'd seen each other. It had been more than that since they'd really communicated. The last time they'd seen each other, Rebekah had been the one in the hospital bed. The last time they'd spoken face to face had been the night before they'd left St. Louis, so many months ago. So, in light of all that had happened, Rebekah struggled.

When she finally spoke, she said, "I've missed you. I wish we could have gone through all this…together…"

Rosalyn looked at her, trying to smile, and said, "It's the way it had to be. Some things, we have to do alone."

"I suppose I wouldn't have been much help to you, anyway. I had a lot of recovering to do, and it wasn't fun…" Rebekah mused.

"Maybe not," Rosalyn chuckled, "but I get what you mean. I've missed you, too."

Rosalyn sat up in the bed, then, adjusting her blankets around herself. Rebekah, in her typically emotional way, crossed the room and wrapped Rosalyn in a tight embrace. Forgetting that they were in a hospital room, in an awkward, uncomfortable bed, they held onto each other for several minutes. Without speaking, they clung together, realizing how incomplete they had been without one another.

Finally pulling back, Rosalyn started to speak. She fumbled over the words, though, and cast a glance at Landon. Sensing that they needed a minute, he stood up and made an excuse about needing some water. After planting a kiss on Rebekah's forehead, he left them alone in the room.

"So…it's been…" Rebekah started.

"Seven months?" Rosalyn finished, "Since I was visiting you in the hospital…"

Rebekah nodded, remembering.

"You look good," Rosalyn said softly, "I mean…you look…normal…"

"Thanks," Rebekah laughed, rolling her eyes.

"You know what I mean," Rosalyn clarified, "You look like…you."

"I am…me. And I think I'm finally well," Rebekah said with a smile in her eyes.

Rosalyn returned the smile.

"You know," Rebekah started after a moment, "if I had been more coherent when you decided to take off and desert everyone, I would've come after you and pounded on you a little."

Rosalyn laughed, but her eyes were serious, "I know. But it's the way it had to happen. There were some things I had to do, alone."

Rebekah took Rosalyn's hand and said simply, "I know."

"And Julianne did pound on me a little," Rosalyn added wryly.

There was a quiet moment then, with a lot of unspoken things passing between them. It was all right, though, because they had reached the place where not everything had to be communicated with words.

After another minute, Rosalyn changed the subject, saying, "I guess Landon gave you the ring, huh?"

Rebekah instinctively touched her left hand, and smiled, "Yeah…a couple weeks after they finally let me go home. He was so nervous, as if I would've said no…"

Rosalyn smiled, "I knew you'd end up together. I knew it that day I walked in on you guys in our dorm room."

Rebekah laughed, "But did you know that _we_ would end up together?"

Rosalyn laughed as well, but then looked thoughtful. She eventually hesitantly admitted, "You know, I've never told you, but one of the reasons I was so awful to you…is because I was so incredible jealous…"

Rebekah cocked her head, "What? Why?"

"Because," Rosalyn continued, "You're talented…ridiculously so, and you're so lovable. You're beautiful and kind, and everyone instantly likes you. You were the only one who could match me, vocally, back then. That year…I felt like some kind of alley cat, rooming with a princess."

Rebekah threw her head back and laughed, "How ridiculous is it that I felt the same way?"

Rosalyn smiled widely, "I guess we're both ridiculous."

Rebekah nodded, "In our own ways…yep."

Rosalyn took Rebekah's hand this time, on her own, and looked into Rebekah's eyes. She seemed to struggle with herself, as though she wanted to say something that had been weighing on her for some time. As she spoke, Rebekah could see very clearly the ways that she'd changed over the past few months.

"I need you to know," Rosalyn started, "what you've done for me. You have no idea how you've changed my life. I don't know of anyone else who would've come looking for me that night in Norfolk. I don't know anyone else who would've stayed in that dressing room to find out what was wrong with me. No one, in almost ten years, was ever willing to put up with me long enough to see through me. I made everyone else angry or scared enough that they ran away. All of them, except you. You were, very truly, the first friend I'd ever had."

Rebekah smiled softly, "I've never been one to leave someone hurting…"

Rosalyn's dark eyes were full of meaning as she continued, "Were it not for your perseverance, I never would have confessed what happened to me. I never would have let the walls come down. And were it not for you almost dying, I never would have taken the plunge and trusted Jacob. I might never have understood how much I need you, how much I need people in my life. And I never would have known what joy is. If I'd never opened myself up to you, I would have been locked in a world of anger and numbness for the rest of my life. It was you, Rebekah, who changed my life. It was you who showed me Jacob. It was you who brought me Hayleigh, and forced me to turn to my sister. It was _you_."

Rebekah felt tears prick her eyes, but fought them back, because she hadn't wanted there to be crying today.

"So," Rosalyn finished very softly, "if you never do anything else in this life, if you never sing again, if no one else ever knows your name, you have changed the world. My future is different, because of you."

Rebekah sat there, still holding Rosalyn's hand, and wiped away the tears that tried to fall. Then, she said, "I think that is the most I've ever heard you say..."

Rosalyn smiled, and said no more.

A moment later, the door clicked opened again, and Landon came back into the room, "I think I found something that's yours," he said with a smile in his voice.

Rebekah turned around to see Jacob following Landon through the door, pushing what looked like a dresser on wheels. After a moment, she realized the top part held a clear bassinet. Rebekah jumped up and squealed.

Landon and Jacob took a step backward, looking as though they were afraid she might attack them.

"Oh my lord," Rosalyn said, laughing.

"I'm a little excited," Rebekah said apologetically, "where have you been?" she asked Jacob.

"Walking. They won't let you carry your own kid around in this place. You have to push the furniture around," he answered with a laugh.

"You know….safety," Rosalyn rolled her eyes.

Rebekah nodded, and crossed to the bassinet Jacob had been pushing. She peered inside, and stared at the tiny little bundle of baby. Born nearly three weeks early, he weighed just six pounds. Still, he was pink and round-faced, and slept with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He had a shock of dark hair that poked out from underneath his tiny, woven hat. Very carefully, Rebekah reached in and lifted him from the little bed. He was feather-light, in her arms, and did not stir. She held him close, and marveled at the fact that he belonged to Rosalyn.

"Wow…" she finally breathed.

Rosalyn watched her, quietly.

Rebekah caught Landon looking at her with longing in his eyes, and she threw out, "All in good time, Landon. Let's do one thing at a time."

Landon and Jacob both laughed, and Rebekah crossed to sit on Rosalyn's bed once again. Rosalyn fixed the blanket around the baby's face, and they both stared at him, transfixed. Studying him, Rebekah could see both Rosalyn and Jacob in his features.

After another minute, Rebekah asked, "What did you name him?"

Rosalyn kept her eyes on him, and answered, "Matthew."

"Why?" Rebekah asked curiously.

"Because," Rosalyn explained, "it means _gift of God_. And a gift is something you didn't ask for. A gift is chosen, specifically for you. We don't always deserve the gifts we're given…but he is my gift."

Rebekah stared at her friend, who in turned stared at her son. She marveled at the wisdom Rosalyn was showing, and wondered if this had been inside of her, all along. She kept quiet, though, not wanting to break the spell. A few moments went by quietly, with all of them content to stare at a sleeping infant.

Eventually, Rebekah asked, "Did I tell you? They offered me New York, at cast change, if I think I'm ready…"

Rosalyn's head snapped up, and she answered, "Really?"

Rebekah nodded, her excitement bubbling over in her smile.

"Do it," Rosalyn ordered.

Rebekah laughed, "Yes ma'am."

"I mean it. Do it. Don't start being you and thinking too much. You'll never regret it. Just do it," Rosalyn pushed.

"I will," Rebekah answered carefully, "on one condition."

Rosalyn raised an eyebrow, "So we're doing this again? With the conditions?"

Rebekah smiled slyly, "Yep. I want you to see if they'll put you up as well. Call your agent, and see if they'll put us up together. Me and you…at the Gershwin."

Rosalyn very gently took her son back from Rebekah, and looked uncertain. Eventually, she said, "Rebekah…I have an infant…"

Rebekah looked into her eyes, "I know. But we both know you're not going to give up what you love. You'd be a miserable mother. So try for it. We'll get a place together and split the rent, all of us. Hayleigh's up there right now. She got on with Andrew Preston, at least for a year, and she has a great nanny…"

Jacob crossed the room then and sat beside Rosalyn on the bed. He brushed her hair back from her face and said, "If they'll let you do a run in New York, I'll back you up. I'll take care of the baby. I meant what I said two months ago. I'm in this for better or worse, even without a ring. I'll help you keep doing what you love, and they'll be a day when you can do the same for me."

Rebekah watched as Rosalyn turned her face up toward Jacob as she listened. Rebekah saw the bond between them, and the way Rosalyn considered his every word. They made sense together, in a way that defied explanation. As different as they were, as unlikely as they were together, Rebekah was glad they'd finally committed to each other. She was glad to see the undisguised need for him in Rosalyn's face. Although they would not be without their troubles, Rebekah was happy that they'd both decided to face life together. They were a family, the two of them and this little one.

After another moment, Rosalyn looked down at her son, and then back at Rebekah. As if in response to Rebekah's proposition, she began to sing. In a voice that was tired, but always beautiful, she sang, "_Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But…because I knew you…"_

And Rebekah returned, "_Because I knew you…"_

The room was quiet as they finished together, "_Because I knew you…I have been changed…for good."_

And little Matthew let out a soft cry, and life moved on.


End file.
